The   Scapegoat 


THE  WORKS  OF 

H 

THE 

ALL     C  A  I  N  E 

DEEMSTER 

THE 

BONDMAN 

THE 

SCAPEGOAT 

CAPT'N    DAVY'S    HONEYMOON 

THE 

LITTLE  MANX  NATION 

THE 

MANXMAN 

THE 

CHRISTIAN 

THE 

ETERNAL  CITY 

THE 

PRODIGAL  SON 

NEW  YORK  and  LONDON 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  Publishers 

if. 


THE  WORKS  OF  HALL   CAINE 


The  Scapegoat 


MANX   EDITION 


ILLUSTRATED 


D.   APPLETON   AND    COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1899, 
By   HALL  CAINE. 


All  rights  reserved. 


Copyright,  1891,  by 
(To  tad  StaUa  Hook  Company. 


PKEFACE    TO   NEW  EDITION. 


This  book  in  its  present  form  is  new  to  Ameri- 
can readers,  although  a  book  under  the  same  title, 
telling  practically  the  same  story,  was  published  in 
America  seven  years  ago.  That  was  just  after  the 
passing  of  the  Copyright  Act,  and  the  effort  to  meet 
the  conditions  of  the  new  law  seemed  to  require  that 
the  romance  should  be  published  in  what  I  knew 
was  an  immature  and  wholly  unsatisfactory  form. 
This  was  the  form  in  which  it  was  being  published 
serially  in  English  and  American  journals,  without 
the  revision  usually  considered  necessary  for  any 
piece  of  writing  before  its  appearance  as  a  book, 
and  especially  desirable  in  the  case  of  the  present 
work. 

The  Scapegoat  was  written  immediately  after 
my  visit  to  Morocco.  While  there  I  contracted 
a  malarial  trouble  which  for  many  months  after- 
wards made  literary  effort  doubly  difficult.  Never- 
theless, the  engagements  of  the  periodicals  in  which 
it  had  been  announced  to  appear  made  it  necessary 
that  I  should  go  on  with  the  story,  and  at  a  nervous 
tension  that  is  painful  to  remember  I  carried  my 
task  through  to  the  end.     The  detriment  to  my 

v 


vi  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

health  was  only  temporary,  but  the  injury  to  my 
work  was  permanent.  This  I  realised  in  all  bitter- 
ness, notwithstanding  the  cordial  and  generous  wel- 
come the  book  received  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic, 
and  when  health  and  opportunity  allowed  I  did  my 
best  to  make  the  story  worthy  of  the  reception  it  had 
received  by  an  effort  to  lift  its  literary  execution 
to  the  level  of  its  artistic  motive. 

With  these  alterations  and  with  amendments 
made  very  recently  I  am  now  offering  the  Scapegoat 
to  American  readers,  practically,  I  think,  as  a  new 
book,  certainly  as  a  book  which  is  in  great  part  new. 

The  sub-title  now  used  on  the  title-page  expresses 
fairly  accurately  my  present  feeling  towards  this  off- 
spring of  eight  years  ago.  It  was  perhaps  natural 
that  when  I  wrote  the  story,  fresh  from  scenes 
of  unparalleled  iniquity,  my  heart  should  be  afire 
for  the  sufferings  of  humanity  in  a  barbarous  coun- 
try that  lay  so  near  to  the  doors  of  civilisation.  My 
opinions  about  Morocco,  and  the  responsibility  under 
which  Europe  rests  with  respect  to  it,  have  in  no 
way  changed,  and  I  still  foresee  a  great  cloud  on 
the  forehead  of  the  future,  whereof  northern  Africa 
and  its  inevitable  partition  will  be  the  principal 
cause.  But  I  see  more  clearly  than  before  that  if 
The  Scapegoat  has  any  value  as  literature  its  inter- 
est comes  closer  home  than  any  question  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  Moors.  The  real  motive  of  the  book 
centres  in  the  character  of  Israel  ben  Oliel,  in  the 


PREFACE    TO   NEW   EDITION.  vii 

physical  and  psychological  experiences  of  Naomi,  and 
in  the  relations  of  these  to  each  other.  It  is  not  for 
me  to  dwell  on  this  motive,  but  I  can  well  remember 
with  what  emotion  I  pursued  it — the  spiritual  strug- 
gle in  the  heart  of  the  man  to  reconcile  himself  to 
the  belief  that  the  world  was  founded  on  justice,  and 
the  physical  joy  of  the  girl  as  the  beauty  and  bright- 
ness of  life  were  revealed  to  her  by  the  birth,  one 
by  one,  of  her  separate  senses. 

It  is  very  possible  that  in  this  pursuit  I  gave  too 
free  a  rein  to  imagination,  and  did  not  keep  as  close 
as  I  have  since  tried  to  do  to  the  canon  of  art  which 
seems  to  require  that  true  fiction  shall  combine  the 
utmost  reach  of  idealism  with  the  greatest  hold  of 
reality,  and  yet  I  have  been  astonished  to  see  how 
often  my  dream  of  Naomi's  restoration  to  sight, 
hearing,  and  speech  has  been  completely  realised  in 
the  actual  experiences  of  living  persons. 

But  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  claim  for 
Naomi's  story  the  authenticity  of  physical  probabil- 
ity, being  so  much  more  concerned  with  its  spiritual 
significance,  and  therefore  in  the  hope  of  fixing  the 
reader's  mind  on  the  idea  that  the  world  is  ruled  in 
righteousness,  and  on  the  thought  of  what  a  won- 
derland of  loveliness  the  visible  universe  would  be 
to  us  if  we  could  see  it  at  a  flash,  I  am  now  present- 
ing this  story,  not  as  a  novel,  but  as  a  romance  and 
a  parable. 

Hall  Caine. 

New  York,  December,  1898. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

Introduction 
I. — Israel  Ben  Oliel 
II. — The  birth  of  Naomi  . 
III. — The  childhood  of  Naomi 
IV. — The  death  of  Ruth   . 
V. — Ruth's  burial 
VI. — The  spirit-maid   . 
VII. — The  angel  in  Israel's  house 
VIII. — The  vision  of  the  Scapegoat 
IX. — Israel's  journey  . 
X. — The  watchword  of  the  Mahdi 
XI. — Israel's  home-coming  . 
XII. — The  baptism  of  sound 
XIII. — Naomi's  great  gift 
XIV. — Israel  at  Shawan 
XV. — The  meeting  on  the  Sok 
XVI. — Naomi's  blindness 
XVII. — Israel's  great  resolve 
XVIII. — The  light-born  messenger 
XIX. — The  rainbow  sign 
XX. — Life's  new  language  . 
XXI. — Israel  in  prison  . 


PAGE 

ix 

1 

12 

23 

36 

46 

54 

65 

77 

91 

105 

114 

122 

140 

155 

156 

191 

210 

224 

239 

246 

261 


ix 


X 


THE  SCAPEGOAT. 


CHAPTER 

XXII. — How  Naomi  turned  Muslima 
XXIII. — Israel's  return  from  prison 
XXIV. — The  entry  of  the  Sultan 
XXV. — The  coming  of  the  Mahdi 
XXVI. — Ali's  return  to  Tetuan. 
XXVII.— The  fall  of  Ben  Aboo   . 
XXVIII.— "  Allah-u-Kabar  "    . 


FADE 

276 
293 
307 
315 
325 
336 
346 


INTRODUCTION. 


Within  sight  of  an  English  port,  and  within  hail 
of  English  ships  as  they  pass  on  to  our  empire  in  the 
East,  there  is  a  land  where  the  ways  of  life  are  the 
same  to-day  as  they  were  a  thousand  years  ago:  a 
land  wherein  government  is  oppression,  wherein  law 
is  tyranny,  wherein  justice  is  bought  and  sold,  where- 
in it  is  a  terror  to  be  rich  and  a  danger  to  be  poor, 
wherein  man  may  still  be  the  slave  of  man,  and 
woman  is  no  more  than  a  creature  of  lust — a  reproach 
to  Europe,  a  disgrace  to  the  century,  an  outrage  on 
humanity,  a  blight  on  religion!  That  land  is  Mo- 
rocco! 

This  is  a  story  of  Morocco  in  the  last  years  of  the 
Sultan  Abd  er-Rahman.  The  ashes  of  that  tyrant 
are  cold,  and  his  great-grandson  sits  in  his  place; 
but  men  who  earned  his  displeasure  linger  yet  in  his 
noisome  dungeons,  and  women  who  won  his  embraces 
are  starving  at  this  hour  in  the  prison-palaces  in 
which  he  immured  them.  His  reign  is  a  story  of 
yesterday;  he  is  gone,  he  is  forgotten;  there  is  no 
man  so  meek  and  none  so  mean  but  he  might  spit 

xi 


xii  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

upon  his  tomb.  Yet  the  evil  work  which  he  did  in 
his  evil  time  is  done  to-day,  if  not  by  his  great-grand- 
son, then  in  his  great-grandson's  name — the  degrada- 
tion of  man's  honour,  the  cruel  wrong  of  woman's, 
the  shame  of  base  usury,  and  the  iniquity  of  justice 
that  may  be  bought!  Of  such  corruption  this  story 
will  tell,  for  it  is  a  tale  of  tyranny  that  is  every  day 
repeated,  a  voice  of  suffering  going  up  hourly  to  the 
powers  of  the  world,  calling  on  them  to  forget  the 
secret  hopes  and  petty  jealousies  whereof  Morocco  is 
a  cause,  to  think  no  more  of  any  scramble  for  terri- 
tory when  the  fated  day  of  that  doomed  land  has 
come,  and  onlv  to  look  to  it  and  see  that  he  who 
fills  the  throne  of  Abd  er-Rahman  shall  be  the  last 
to  sit  there. 

Yet  it  is  the  grandeur  of  human  nature  that  when 
it  is  trodden  down  it  waits  for  no  decree  of  nations, 
but  finds  its  own  solace  amid  the  baffled  struggle 
with  inimical  power  in  the  hopes  of  an  exalted  faith. 
That  cry  of  the  soul  to  be  lifted  out  of  the  bondage 
of  the  narrow  circle  of  life,  which  carries  up  to  God 
the  protest  and  yearning  of  suffering  man,  never 
finds  a  more  sublime  expression  than  where  humanity 
is  oppressed  and  religion  is  corrupt.  On  the  one 
hand,  there-is  the  hard  experience  of  daily  existence; 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  the  soul  crying  out  that 
the  things  of  this  world  are  not  the  true  realities. 
Savage  vices  make  savage  virtues,  and  God  and  man 
are  brought  face  to  face. 


INTRODUCTION.  xiii 

In  the  heart  of  Morocco  there  is  one  man  who 
lives  a  life  that  is  like  a  hymn,  appealing  to  Heaven 
against  tyranny  and  corruption  and  shame.  This 
great  soul  is  the  leader  of  a  vast  following,  which 
has  come  to  him  from  every  scoured  and  beaten 
corner  of  the  land.  His  voice  resounds  throughout 
Barbary,  and  wheresoever  men  are  broken  and  down- 
trodden they  rise  up  and  go  to  him,  and  wheresoever 
women  are  fallen  and  wrecked  they  seek  the  mercy 
and  the  shelter  of  his  face.  He  is  poor,  and  has 
nothing  to  give  them  save  one  thing  only,  but  that 
is  the  best  thing  of  all — it  is  hope.  Not  hope  in  life, 
but  hope  in  death,  the  sublime  hope  of  recompense, 
whose  radiance  is  always  around  him.  Man  that 
veils  his  face  before  the  mysteries  of  the  hereafter, 
and  science  that  reckons  the  laws  of  nature  and 
ignores  the  power  of  God,  have  no  place  with  the 
Mahdi.  The  unseen  is  his  certainty;  the  miracle 
is  all  in  all  to  him;  he  throngs  the  air  with  marvels; 
God  speaks  to  him  in  dreams  when  he  sleeps,  and 
warns  and  directs  him  by  signs  when  he  is  awake. 

With  this  man,  so  singular  a  mixture  of  the 
haughty  chief  and  the  joyous  child,  there  is  another, 
a  woman,  his  wife.  She  is  beautiful  with  a  beauty 
rarely  seen  even  among  Moorish  women,  and  her 
senses  are  subtle  beyond  the  wonders  of  enchant- 
ment. Together  these  two,  with  their  ragged  fellow- 
ship of  the  poor  behind  them,  having  no  homes  and 
no  possessions,  pass  from  place  to  place,  unharmed 


xiv  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  unhindered,  through  that  land  of  intolerance 
and  iniquity,  being  protected  and  reverenced  by  vir- 
tue of  the  superstition  which  accepts  them  for  Saints. 
Who  are  they?  What  have  they  been?  What  is  the 
meaning  or  significance  of  the  lives  they  live? 
That  is  the  story  this  parable  has  to  tell. 


THE   SCAPEGOAT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ISRAEL    BEN    OLIEL. 

Israel  ben  Oliel  was  the  son  of  a  Jewish  banker 
at  Tangier.  His  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  banker 
in  London.  The  father's  name  was  Oliel;  the  moth- 
er's was  Sara.  Oliel  had  held  business  connections 
with  the  house  of  Sara's  father,  and  he  came  over 
to  England  that  he  might  have  a  personal  meeting 
with  his  correspondent.  The  English  banker  lived 
over  his  office,  near  Holborn  Bars,  and  Oliel  met 
with  his  family.  It  consisted  of  one  daughter  by  a 
first  wife,  long  dead,  and  three  sons  by  a  second  wife, 
still  living.  They  were  not  altogether  a  happy  house- 
hold, and  the  chief  apparent  cause  of  discord  was  the 
child  of  the  first  wife  in  the  home  of  the  second. 
Oliel  was  a  man  of  quick  perception,  and  he  saw  the 
difficulty.  That  was  how  it  came  to  pass  that  he  was 
married  to  Sara.  When  he  returned  to  Morocco  he 
was  some  thousand  pounds  richer  than  when  he  left 
it,  and  he  had  a  capable  and  personable  wife  into  his 
bargain. 

Oliel  was  a  self-centred  and  silent  man,  absorbed 
in  getting  and  spending,  always  taking  care  to  do 
much  of  the  one,  and  no  more  than  he  could  help 
of  the  other.    Sara  was  a  nervous  and  sensitive  little 

1 


2  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

woman,  hungering  for  communion  and  for  sympathy. 
She  got  little  of  either  from  her  hushand,  and  grew 
to  be  as  silent  as  himself.  With  the  people  of  the 
country  of  her  adoption,  whether  Jews  or  Moors,  she 
made  no  headway.  She  never  even  learnt  their  lan- 
guage. 

Two  years  passed,  and  then  a  child  was  horn  to 
her.  This  was  Israel,  and  for  many  a  year  thereafter 
the  boy  was  all  the  world  to  the  lonely  woman.  His 
coming  made  no  apparent  difference  to  his  father. 
He  grew  to  be  tall  and  comely,  quick  and  bright, 
and  inclined  to  be  of  a  sweet  and  cheerful  disposi- 
tion. But  the  school  of  his  upbringing  was  a  hard 
one.  A  Jewish  child  in  Morocco  might  know  from 
his  cradle  that  he  was  not  born  a  Moor  and  a  Mo- 
hammedan. 

When  the  boy  was  eight  years  old  his  father  mar- 
ried a  second  wife,  his  first  wife  being  still  alive. 
This  was  lawful,  though  unusual  in  Tangier.  The 
new  marriage,  which  was  only  another  business  trans- 
action to  Oliel,  was  a  shock  and  a  terror  to  Sara. 
Nevertheless,  she  supported  its  penalties  through 
three  weary  years,  sinking  visibly  day  after  day.  By 
that  time  a  second  family  had  begun  to  share  her 
husband's  house,  the  rivalry  of  the  mothers  had 
threatened  to  extend  to  the  children,  the  domesticity 
of  home  was  destroyed,  and  its  harmony  was  no  longer 
possible.  Then  she  left  Oliel,  and  fled  back  to  Eng- 
land, taking  Israel  with  her. 

Her  father  was  dead,  and  the  welcome  she  got 
from  her  half-brothers  was  not  warm.  They  had  no 
sympathy  with  her  rebellion  against  her  husband's 
second  marriage.  If  she  had  married  into  a  foreign 
country,  she  should  abide  by  the  ways  of  it.     Sara 


ISRAEL  BEN  OLIEL.  3 

was  heartbroken.  Her  health  had  long  been  poor, 
and  now  it  failed  her  utterly.  In  less  than  a  month 
she  died.  On  her  deathbed  she  committed  her  boy 
to  the  care  of  her  brothers,  and  implored  them  not  to 
send  him  back  to  Morocco. 

For  years  thereafter  Israel's  life  in  London  was  a 
stern  one.  If  he  had  to  submit  no  longer  to  the  open 
contempt  of  the  Moors,  the  kicks  and  insults  of  the 
streets,  he  had  to  learn  how  bitter  is  the  bread  that 
one  is  forced  to  eat  at  another's  table.  When  he 
should  have  been  still  at  school  he  was  set  to  some 
menial  occupation  in  the  bank  at  Holborn  Bars, 
and  when  he  ought  to  have  risen  at  his  desk  he  was 
required  to  teach  the  sons  of  prosperous  men  the  way 
to  go  above  him.  Life  was  playing  an  evil  game  with 
him,  and,  even  if  he  won,  it  must  be  at  a  bitter  price. 

Thus  twelve  years  went  by,  and  Israel,  now  three- 
and-twenty,  was  a  tall,  silent,  very  sedate  young  man, 
clear-headed  on  all  subjects,  and  a  master  of  figures. 
Never  once  during  that  time  had  his  father  written 
to  him,  or  otherwise  recognised  his  existence,  though 
knowing  of  his  whereabouts  from  the  first  by  the 
zealous  importunities  of  his  uncles.  Then  one  day 
a  letter  came  written  in  distant  tone  and  formal  man- 
ner, announcing  that  the  writer  had  been  some  time 
confined  to  his  bed,  and  did  not  expect  to  leave  it; 
that  the  children  of  his  second  wife  had  died  in  in- 
fancy; that  he  was  alone,  and  had  no  one  of  his  own 
flesh  and  blood  to  look  to  his  business,  which  was 
therefore  in  the  hands  of  strangers,  who  robbed  him; 
and  finally,  that  if  Israel  felt  any  duty  towards  his 
father,  or,  failing  that,  if  he  had  any  wish  to  consult 
his  own  interest,  he  would  lose  no  time  in  leaving 
England  for  Morocco. 
2 


4  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Israel  read  the  letter  without  a  throb  of  filial  af- 
fection; but,  nevertheless,  he  concluded  to  obey  its 
summons.  A  fortnight  later  he  landed  at  Tangier. 
He  had  come  too  late.  His  father  had  died  the  day 
before.  The  weather  was  stormy,  and  the  surf  on 
the  shore  was  heavy,  and  thus  it  chanced  that,  while 
the  crazy  old  packet  on  which  he  sailed  lay  all  day 
beating  about  the  bay,  in  fear  of  being  dashed  on  to 
the  ruins  of  the  mole,  his  father's  body  was  being 
buried  in  the  little  Jewish  cemetery  outside  the  east- 
ern walls,  and  his  cousins,  and  cousins'  cousins,  to 
the  fifth  degree,  without  loss  of  time  or  waste  of  senti- 
ment, were  busily  dividing  his  inheritance  among 
them. 

Next  day,  as  his  father's  heir,  he  claimed  from 
the  Moorish  court  the  restitution  of  his  father's  sub- 
stance. But  his  cousins  made  the  Kadi,  the  judge, 
a  present  of  a  hundred  dollars,  and  he  was  declared 
to  be  an  impostor,  who  could  not  establish  his  iden- 
tity. Producing  his  father's  letter  which  had  sum- 
moned him  from  London,  he  appealed  from  the  Kadi 
to  the  Aolama.  men  wise  in  the  law,  who  acted  as 
referees  in  disputed  cases;  but  it  was  decided  that 
as  a  Jew  he  had  no  right  in  Mohammedan  law  to 
offer  evidence  in  a  civil  court.  He  laid  his  case 
before  the  British  Consul,  but  was  found  to  have 
no  claim  to  En.Lrli.-li  intervention,  being  a  subject  of 
the  Sultan  both  by  birth  and  parentage.  Meantime, 
his  dispute  with  his  cousins  was  set  at  rest  for  ever 
by  the  Governor  of  the  town,  who,  concluding  that 
his  father  had  left  neither  will  nor  heirs,  confiscated 
everything  he  had  possessed  to  the  public  treasury — 
that  is  to  say,  to  the  Kaid's  own  uses. 

Thus  he  found  himself  without  standing  ground 


ISRAEL  BEN  OLIEL.  5 

in  Morocco,  whether  as  a  Jew,  a  Moor,  or  an  Eng- 
lishman, a  stranger  in  his  father's  country,  and  openly 
hranded  as  a  cheat.  That  he  did  not  return  to  Eng- 
land promptly  was  because  he  was  already  a  man  of 
indomitable  spirit.  Besides  that,  the  treatment  he 
was  having  now  was  but  of  a  piece  with  what  he 
had  received  at  all  times.  But  the  obstacles  and  tor- 
ments which  make  no  impression  on  the  mind  of  a 
strong  man  often  make  a  very  sensible  impression 
on  his  heart;  the  mind  triumphs,  it  is  the  heart  that 
suffers;  the  mind  strengthens  and  expands  after  every 
besetting  plague  of  life,  the  heart  withers  and  wears 
away. 

So  far  from  flying  from  Morocco  when  things 
conspired  together  to  beat  him  down,  Israel  looked 
about  with  an  equal  mind  for  the  means  of  settling 
there. 

His  opportunity  came  early.  The  Governor,  either 
by  qualm  of  conscience  or  further  freak  of  selfish- 
ness, got  him  the  place  of  head  of  the  Oomana,  the 
three  Administrators  of  Customs  at  Tangier.  He 
held  the  post  six  months  only,  to  the  complete  satis- 
faction of  the  Kaid,  but  amid  the  muttered  discon- 
tent of  the  merchants  and  tradesmen.  Then  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Tetuan,  a  bigger  town  lying  a  long  day's 
journey  to  the  east,  hearing  of  Israel  that  as  Ameen 
of  Tangier  he  had  doubled  the  custom  revenues  in 
half  a  year,  invited  him  to  fill  an  informal,  unof- 
ficial, and  irregular  position  as  assessor  of  tributes. 

It  would  be  a  long  task  to  tell  of  the  work  which 
Israel  did  in  his  new  calling:  how  he  regulated  the 
market  dues,  and  appointed  a  Mutihasseb,  a  clerk  of 
the  market,  to  collect  them — so  many  moozoonahs 
for  every  camel  sold,  so  many  for  every  horse,  mule, 


6  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  ass,  so  many  floos  for  every  fowl,  and  so  many 
metkals  for  the  purchase  and  sale  of  every  slave;  how 
he  numbered  the  houses  and  made  lists  of  the  trades, 
assessing  their  tribute  by  the  value  of  their  busi- 
nesses— so  much  for  gun-making,  so  much  for  weav- 
ing, so  much  for  tanning,  and  so  on  through  the  line 
of  them,  great  and  small,  good  and  bad,  even  from 
the  trades  of  the  Jewish  silversmiths  and  the  Moor- 
ish packsaddle-makers  down  to  the  callings  of  the 
Arab  water-carriers  and  the  ninety  public  women. 

All  this  he  did  by  the  strict  law  and  letter  of  the 
Koran,  which  entitled  the  Sultan  to  a  tithe  of  all 
earnings  whatsoever;  but  he  did  it  also  by  the  im- 
pulse of  a  sour  and  saddened  heart.  The  world  had 
shown  no  mercy  to  him,  he  need  show  no  mercy  to 
the  world.  Why  talk  of  pity?  It  was  only  a  name, 
an  idea,  a  mocking  thought.  In  the  actual  reckon- 
ing of  life  there  was  no  such  word  as  pity.  Thus 
did  Israel  justify  himself  in  all  his  dealings,  what- 
ever their  severity  and  the  rigour  wherewith  they 
wrought. 

The  people  felt  the  strong  hand  that  was  on  them, 
and  they  cursed  it.  "  Ya  Allah!  Allah!  "  the  Moors 
would  cry.  "  Who  is  this  Jew — this  son  of  the  Eng- 
lish— that  he  should  be  made  our  master?  " 

They  muttered  at  him  in  the  streets,  they  scowled 
upon  him,  and  at  length  they  insulted  him  openly. 
Since  his  return  from  England  he  had  resumed  the 
dress  of  his  own  race  in  his  own  country — the  long 
dark  gabardine  or  kaftan,  with  a  scarf  for  girdle, 
the  black  slippers,  and  the  black  skull-cap.  And. 
going  one  day  by  the  Grand  Mosque,  a  group  of  the 
beggars,  who  lay  always  by  the  gate,  called  on  him 
to  uncover  his  feet. 


ISRAEL  BEN  OLIEL.  7 

"Jew!  Dog!  "  they  cried,  "there  is  no  god  but 
God!  Curses  on  your  relations!  Off  with  your  slip- 
pers! " 

He  paid  no  heed  to  their  commands,  but  made 
straight  onward.  Then  one  blear-eyed  and  scab- 
faced  cripple  scrambled  up  and  struck  off  his  cap 
with  a  crutch.  He  picked  it  up  again  without  a  look 
or  a  word,  and  strode  away.  But  next  morning,  at 
early  prayers,  there  was  a  place  empty  at  the  door 
of  the  mosque.  Its  accustomed  occupant  lay  in  the 
prison  at  the  Kasbah. 

And  if  the  Muslimeen  hated  Israel  for  what  he 
was  doing  for  their  Governor,  the  Jews  hated  him  yet 
more  because  it  was  being  done  for  a  Moor. 

"  He  has  sold  himself  to  our  enemy,  against  the 
welfare  of  his  own  nation,"  they  said. 

At  the  synagogue  they  ignored  him,  and  in  tak- 
ing the  votes  of  their  people  they  counted  others 
and  passed  him  by.  He  showed  no  malice.  Only  his 
strong  face  twitched  at  each  fresh  insult,  and  his 
head  was  held  higher.  Only  this,  and  one  other  sign 
of  suffering  in  that  secret  place  of  his  withering 
heart,  which  God's  eye  alone  could  see. 

Thus  far  he  had  done  no  more  to  Moor  and  Jew 
than  exact  that  tenth  part  of  their  substance  which 
the  faiths  of  both  required  that  they  should  pay.  But 
now  his  work  went  further.  A  little  group  of  old 
Jews,  all  held  in  honour  among  their  people — Abra- 
ham Ohana,  nicknamed  Pigman,  son  of  a  former 
rabbi;  Judah  ben  Lolo,  an  elder  of  his  synagogue; 
and  Beuben  Maliki,  keeper  of  the  poor-box — were 
seized  and  cast  into  the  Kasbah  for  gross  and  base 
usury. 

At  this  the  Jewish  quarter  was  thrown  into  wild 


8  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

hubbub.  The  hand  that  was  on  their  people  was  a 
daring  and  terrible  one.  None  doubted  whose  hand 
it  was — it  was  the  hand  of  voung  Israel  the  Jew. 

When  the  three  old  usurers  had  bought  themselves 
out  of  the  Kasbah,  they  put  their  heads  together 
and  said,  "  Let  us  drive  this  fellow  out  of  the  Mellah, 
and  so  shall  he  be  driven  out  of  the  town."  Then 
the  owner  of  the  house  which  Israel  rented  for  his 
lodging  evicted  him  by  a  poor  excuse,  and  all  other 
Jewish  owners  refused  him  as  tenant.  But  the  con- 
spiracy failed.  By  command  of  the  Governor,  or  by 
his  influence,  Israel  was  lodged  with  the  Nadir,  the 
administrator  of  mosque  property,  in  one  of  the 
houses  belonging  to  the  mosque  on  the  Moorish  side 
of  the  Mellah  walls. 

Seeing  this,  the  usurers  laid  their  heads  together 
again  and  said,  "  Let  us  see  that  no  man  of  our  nation 
serve  him,  and  so  shall  his  life  be  a  burden."  The 
two  Jews  who  had  been  his  servants  deserted  him, 
and  when  he  asked  for  Moors  he  was  told  that  the 
faithful  might  not  obey  the  unbeliever;  and  when  he 
would  have  sent  for  negroes  out  of  the  Soudan  he 
was  warned  that  a  Jew  might  not  hold  a  slave.  But 
the  conspiracy  failed  again.  Two  black  female  slaves 
from  Soos,  named  Fatimah  and  Habeebah,  were 
bought  in  the  name  of  the  Governor  and  assigned 
to  Israel's  service. 

When  it  was  seen  at  length  that  nothing  availed 
to  disturb  Israel's  material  welfare,  the  three  usurers 
laid  their  heads  together  again,  that  they  might  prey 
upon  his  superstitious  fears.  They  said.  "  He  is  our 
enemy,  but  he  is  a  Jew:  let  the  woman  who  is  named 
the  prophetess  put  her  curse  upon  him."  Then  she 
who  was  so  called,  one  Kebecca  Bensabbot,  deaf  as 


ISRAEL  BEN  OLIEL.  9 

a  stone,  weak  in  her  intellect,  seventy  years  of  age, 
and  living  fifty  years  on  the  poor-box  which  Reuben 
Maliki  kept,  crossed  Israel  in  the  streets,  and  cursed 
him  as  a  son  of  Beelzebub,  predicting  that,  even  as 
he  had  made  the  walls  of  the  Kasbah  to  echo  with 
the  groans  of  God's  elect,  so  should  his  own  spirit 
be  broken  within  them  and  his  forehead  humbled  to 
the  earth.  He  stood  while  he  heard  her  out,  and  his 
strong  lip  trembled  at  her  words;  but  he  only  smiled 
coldly,  and  passed  on  in  silence. 

"  The  clouds  are  not  hurt  by  the  bark  of  dogs," 
he  thought. 

Thus  did  his  brethren  of  Judah  revile  him,  and 
thus  did  they  torture  him.  Yet  there  was  one  among 
them  who  did  neither.  This  was  the  daughter  of 
their  Grand  Rabbi,  David  ben  Ohana.  Her  name 
was  Ruth.  She  was  young  and  beautiful,  and  many 
young  Jewish  men  of  Tetuan  had  vied  with  each 
other  in  vain  for  her  favour.  Of  Israel's  work  she 
knew  little,  save  what  report  had  said  of  it,  that  it 
was  evil;  and  of  the  acts  which  had  made  him  an 
outcast  among  his  own  people,  and  an  Ishmael  among 
the  sons  of  Ishmael,  she  could  form  no  judgment. 
But  what  a  woman's  eyes  might  see  in  him,  without 
help  of  other  knowledge,  that  she  saw. 

She  had  marked  him  in  the  synagogue,  that  his 
face  was  noble  and  his  manners  gracious;  that  he 
was  young,  but  only  as  one  who  had  been  cheated 
of  his  youth  and  had  missed  his  early  manhood;  that 
when  he  was  ignored  he  ignored  his  insult,  and  when 
he  was  reviled  he  answered  not  again;  in  a  word, 
that  he  was  silent  and  strong  and  alone,  and,  above 
all,  that  he  was  sad. 

These  were  credentials  enough  to  the  true  girl's 


10  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

favour,  arid  Israel  soon  learnt  that  the  house  of  the 
Rabbi  was  open  to  him.  There  the  lonely  man  first 
found  himself.  The  cold  eyes  of  his  little  world  had 
seen  him  only  as  his  father's  son,  but  the  light  and 
warmth  of  the  eyes  of  Euth  saw  him  as  the  son  of 
his  mother  also.  The  Eabbi  himself  was  old,  very 
old — ninety  years  of  age — and  length  of  days  had 
taught  him  charity.  And  so  it  was  that  when,  in  due 
time,  Israel  came  with  many  excuses  and  asked  for 
Ruth  in  marriage,  the  Rabbi  gave  his  consent. 

The  betrothal  followed,  but  none  save  the  notary 
and  his  witnesses  stood  beside  Israel  when  he  crossed 
hands  over  the  handkerchief;  and,  when  the  mar- 
riage came  in  due  course,  few  stood  beside  the  Chief 
Rabbi.  Nevertheless,  all  the  Jews  of  the  quarter  and 
all  the  Moors  of  Tetuan  were  alive  to  what  was  hap- 
pening, and  on  the  night  of  the  marriage  a  great 
company  of  both  peoples  gathered  in  front  of  the 
Rabbi's  house  that  they  might  hiss  and  jeer. 

The  Chacham  heard  them  from  where  he  sat 
under  the  stars  in  his  patio,  and  when  at  last  the 
voice  of  Rebecca  the  prophetess  came  to  him  above 
the  tumult,  crying,  "  Woe  to  her  that  has  married 
the  enemy  of  her  nation,  and  woe  to  him  that  gave 
her  against  the  hope  of  his  people!  They  shall  taste 
death.  He  shall  see  them  fall  from  his  side  and 
die,"  then  the  old  man  listened  and  trembled  visibly. 
In  confusion  and  fierce  anger  he  rose  up  and  stum- 
bled through  the  crooked  passage  to  the  door,  and 
flinging  it  wide,  he  stood  in  the  doorway  facing  the 
rabble. 

"Peace!  peace!"  he  cried,  "and  shame!  shame! 
Remember  the  doom  of  him  that  shall  curse  the  high 
priest  of  the  Lord." 


ISRAEL  BEN  OLIEL.  H 

He  spoke  in  a  voice  that  shook  with  wrath.  Sud- 
denly, his  voice  failing  him,  he  said  in  a  broken 
whisper,  "  My  good  people,  what  is  this  ?  Your  serv- 
ant is  grown  old  in  your  service.  Sixty  and  odd  years 
he  has  shared  your  sorrows  and  your  burdens.  What 
has  he  done  this  day  that  your  women  should  lift 
up  their  voices  against  him?  " 

But,  in  awe  of  his  white  head  in  the  moonlight, 
the  people  who  stood  in  the  darkness  were  silent 
and  made  no  answer.  Then  he  staggered  back,  and 
Israel  helped  him  into  his  house,  and  Euth  did  what 
she  could  to  compose  him.  But  he  was  woefully 
shaken,  and  that  night  he  died. 

When  the  Eabbi's  death  became  known  in  the 
morning,  the  Jews  whispered,  "  It  is  the  first-fruits! '; 
and  the  Moors  touched  their  foreheads  and  mur- 
mured, "  It  is  written!  " 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    BIKTH    OF    NAOMI. 

Israel  paid  no  heed  to  Jew  or  Moor,  but  in  due 
time  he  set  about  the  building  of  a  house  for  himself 
and  for  Ruth.  He  placed  it  in  the  south-east  corner 
of  the  Mellah,  and  built  it  partly  in  the  Moorish  and 
partly  in  the  English  fashion,  with  an  open  court 
and  corridors,  marble  pillars,  and  a  marble  staircase, 
walls  of  small  tiles,  and  ceilings  of  stalactites,  but 
also  with  windows  and  with  doors.  And  when  his 
house  was  raised  he  put  no  haities  into  it,  and  spread 
no  mattresses  on  the  floors,  but  sent  for  tables  and 
chairs  and  couches  out  of  England;  and  everything 
he  did  in  this  wise  cut  him  off  the  more  from  the 
people  about  him,  both  Moors  and  Jews. 

And  being  settled  at  last,  and  his  own  master  in 
his  own  dwelling,  out  of  the  power  of  his  enemies  to 
push  him  back  into  the  streets,  it  occurred  to  him 
for  the  first  time  that  whereas  the  house  he  had  built 
Mas  a  refuge  for  himself,  it  was  doomed  to  be  little 
better  than  a  prison  for  his  wife.  In  marking  Ruth 
he  had  enlarged  the  circle  of  his  intimates  by  one 
faith  fid  and  loving  soul,  but  in  marrying  Israel  she 
had  reduced  even  her  friends  to  that  number.  Her 
father  was  dead;  if  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  Chief 
Rabbi  she  was  also  the  wife  of  an  outcast,  the  com- 
panion of  a  pariah,  and,  save  for  him,  she  must  be 
12 


THE  BIRTH  OP  NAOMI.  13 

for  ever  alone.  Even  their  bondwomen  still  spoke 
a  foreign  dialect,  and  conversation  between  them  was 
mainly  by  signs. 

Thinking  of  this  with  some  remorse,  one  idea  fixed 
itself  on  Israel's  mind,  one  hope  on  his  heart — that 
Ruth  might  soon  bear  a  child.  Then  would  her  soli- 
tude be  broken  by  the  dearest  company  a  woman 
might  know  on  earth,  and,  if  he  had  wronged  her, 
his  child  would  make  amends. 

Israel  thought  of  this  again  and  again.  The  de- 
licious hope  pursued  him.  It  was  his  secret,  and 
he  never  gave  it  speech.  But  time  passed,  and  no 
child  was  born.  Ruth  saw  that  she  was  barren,  and 
she  began  to  cast  down  her  head  before  her  husband. 
Israel's  hope  was  of  longer  life,  but  the  truth  dawned 
upon  him  at  last.  Then,  when  he  perceived  that  his 
wife  was  ashamed,  a  great  tenderness  came  over  him. 
He  had  been  thinking  of  her,  that  a  child  would 
bring  her  solace,  and  meanwhile  she  had  thought 
only  of  him,  that  a  child  would  be  his  pride.  After 
that  he  never  went  abroad  but  he  came  home  with 
stories  of  women  wailing  at  the  cemetery  over  the 
tombs  of  their  babes,  of  men  broken  in  heart  for  loss 
of  their  sons,  and  of  how  they  were  best  treated  of 
God  who  were  given  no  children. 

This  served  his  soul  for  a  time  to  cheat  it  of  its 
disappointment,  half  deceiving  Ruth,  and  deceiving 
himself  altogether.  But  one  day  the  woman  Re- 
becca met  him  again  at  the  street-corner  by  his  own 
house,  and  she  lifted  her  gaunt  finger  into  his  face, 
and  cried,  "  Israel  ben  Oliel,  the  judgment  of  the 
Lord  is  upon  you,  and  will  not  suffer  you  to  raise  up 
children  to  be  a  reproach  and  a  curse  among  your 
people! " 


14  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  Out  upon  you,  woman!  "  cried  Israel,  and  almost 
in  the  first  delirium  of  his  pain  he  had  lifted  his  hand 
to  strike  her.  Her  other  predictions  had  passed  him 
by,  but  this  one  had  smitten  him.  He  went  home 
and  shut  himself  in  his  room,  and  throughout  that 
day  he  let  no  one  come  near  him. 

Israel  knew  his  own  heart  at  last.  At  his  wife's 
barrenness  he  was  now  angry  with  the  anger  of  a 
proud  man  whose  pride  had  been  abased.  What  was 
the  worth  of  it,  after  all,  that  he  had  conquered  the 
fate  that  had  first  beaten  him  down?  What  did  it 
come  to  that  the  world  was  at  his  feet?  Heaven  was 
above  him,  and  the  poorest  man  in  the  Mellah  who 
was  the  father  of  a  child  might  look  down  on  him 
with  contempt. 

That  night  he  did  not  sleep,  and  his  mouth  was 
parched  and  his  spirit  bitter.  And  sometimes  he  re- 
proached himself  with  a  thousand  offences,  and 
sometimes  he  searched  the  Scriptures,  that  he  might 
persuade  himself  that  he  had  walked  blameless  be- 
fore the  Lord  in  the  ordinances  and  commandments 
of  God. 

Meantime,  Ruth,  in  her  solitude,  remembered  that 
it  was  now  three  years  since  she  had  been  married 
to  Israel,  and  that  by  the  laws,  both  of  their  race  and 
their  country,  a  woman  who  had  been  long  barren 
might  straightway  be  divorced  by  her  husband. 

\'c\t  morning  a  message  of  business  came  from 
the  Khaloefa,  but  Israel  would  not  answer  it.  Then 
came  an  order  to  him  from  the  Governor,  but  still 
he  paid  no  heed.  At  length  he  heard  a  feeble  knock 
at  the  <Iomt  of  his  room.  It  was  Ruth,  his  wife,  and 
be  opened  the  door  and  she  entered. 

"  Send  me  away  from  you!  "  she  cried. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  NAOMI.  15 

"Not  for  the  place  of  the  Kaid,"  he  answered 
stoutly;  "  no,  nor  the  throne  of  the  Sultan!  " 

At  that  she  fell  on  his  neck  and  kissed  him.  But 
he  comforted  her  at  length,  and  said,  "  Look  up,  my 
dearest!  look  up!  I  am  a  proud  man  among  men, 
but  it  is  even  as  the  Lord  may  deal  with  me.  And 
which  of  us  shall  murmur  against  God?" 

At  that  Ruth  lifted  her  head  from  his  bosom, 
and  her  eyes  were  full  of  a  sudden  thought. 

"  Then  let  us  ask  of  the  Lord,"  she  whispered 
hotly;  "  surely  He  will  hear  our  prayer." 

"  It  is  the  voice  of  the  Lord  Himself! "  cried 
Israel;  "  this  day  it  shall  be  done!  " 

At  the  time  of  evening  prayers  Israel  and  Euth 
went  up  hand  in  hand  together  to  the  synagogue,  in 
a  narrow  lane  off  the  Sok  el  Foki.  Ruth  knelt  in  her 
place  in  the  gallery,  close  under  the  iron  grating  and 
the  candles  that  hung  above  it,  and  prayed:  "  0 
Lord,  have  pity  on  this  Thy  servant,  and  take  away 
her  reproach  among  women.  Give  her  grace  in  Thine 
eyes,  0  Lord,  that  her  husband  be  not  ashamed. 
Grant  her  a  child  of  Thy  mercy,  that  his  eye  may 
smile  upon  her.  Yet  not  as  she  willeth,  but  as  Thou 
wiliest,  0  Lord,  and  Thy  servant  will  be  satisfied." 

But  Israel  stood  long  on  the  floor  with  his  hand 
on  his  heart  and  his  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  he  called 
on  God  as  a  debtor  that  will  not  be  appeased:  "  How 
long  wilt  Thou  forget  me,  0  Lord?  My  enemies 
triumph  over  me  and  foretell  Thy  doom  upon  me. 
They  sit  in  the  lurking-places  of  the  streets  to  deride 
me.  Confound  my  enemies,  0  Lord,  and  rebuke  their 
counsels.  Remember  Ruth.  I  beseech  Thee,  that  she 
is  patient  and  her  heart  is  humbled.  Give  her  chil- 
dren of  Thy  servant,  and  her  first-born  shall  be  sane- 


16  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

tified  unto  Thee.  Give  her  one  child,  and  it  shall 
be  Thine — if  it  is  a  son,  to  be  a  Rabbi  in  Thy  syna- 
gogues. Hear  me,  0  Lord,  and  give  heed  to  my  cry, 
for  behold,  I  swear  it  before  Thee.  One  child,  but 
one,  only  one,  son  or  daughter,  and  all  my  desire  is 
before  Thee.  How  long  wilt  Thou  forget  me,  0 
Lord?" 

The  message  of  the  Khaleefa  which  Israel  had 
not  answered  in  his  trouble  was  a  request  from  the 
Shereef  of  Wazan  that  he  should  come  without  delay 
to  that  town  to  count  his  rent-charges  and  assess  his 
dues.  This  request  the  Governor  had  transformed 
into  a  command,  for  the  Shereef  was  a  prince  of 
Islam  in  his  own  country,  and  in  many  provinces 
the  believers  paid  him  tribute.  So  in  three  days' 
time  Israel  was  ready  to  set  out  on  his  journey,  with 
men  and  mules  at  his  door,  and  camels  packed  with 
tents. 

He  was  to  be  some  months  absent  from  Tetuan, 
and  it  was  impossible  that  Ruth  should  accompany 
him.  Thejr  had  never  been  separated  before,  and 
Ruth's  concern  was  that  they  should  be  so  long  apart, 
but  Israel's  was  a  deeper  matter. 

"  Ruth,"  he  said  when  his  time  came,  "  I  am 
going  away  from  you,  but  my  enemies  remain.  They 
see  evil  in  all  my  doings,  and  in  this  act  also  they 
will  find  offence.  Promise  me  if  they  make  a  mock 
at  you  for  your  husband's  sake  that  you  will  not 
see  them;  if  they  taunt  you  that  you  will  not  hear 
them;  and  if  they  ask  anything  concerning  me  that 
you  will  answer  them  not  at  all." 

Ruth  promised  him  everything — that  if  his  ene- 
mies made  a  mock  at  her  she  should  be  as  one  that 
was  blind,  if  they  taunted  her  as  one  that  was  deaf, 


THE   BIRTH  OP  NAOMI.  17 

and  if  they  questioned  her  concerning  her  husband 
as  one  that  was  dumb.  Then  they  parted  with  many 
tears  and  embraces. 

Israel  was  half  a  year  absent  in  the  town  and 
province  of  Wazan,  and,  having  finished  the  work 
which  he  came  to  do,  he  was  sent  back  to  Tetuan 
loaded  with  presents  from  the  Shereef,  and  sur- 
rounded by  soldiers  and  attendants,  who  did  not  leave 
him  until  they  had  brought  him  to  the  door  of  his 
own  house. 

And  there,  in  her  chamber,  sat  Ruth  awaiting 
him,  her  eyes  dim  with  tears  of  joy,  her  throat  throb- 
bing like  the  throat  of  a  bird,  and  great  news  on  her 
tongue. 

"  Listen,"  she  whispered;  "  I  have  something  to 
tell  you " 

"  Ah,  I  know  it,"  he  cried;  "  I  know  it  already. 
I  see  it  in  your  eyes." 

"  Only  listen,"  she  whispered  again,  while  she 
toyed  with  the  neck  of  his  kaftan,  and  coloured  deep- 
ly, not  daring  to  look  into  his  face. 

Their  prayer  in  the  synagogue  had  been  heard, 
and  the  child  they  had  asked  for  was  to  come. 

Israel  was  like  a  man  beside  himself  with  joy. 
He  burst  in  upon  the  message  of  his  wife,  and  caught 
her  to  his  breast  again  and  again,  and  kissed  her. 
Long  they  stood  together  so,  while  he  told  her  of 
the  chances  which  had  befallen  him  during  his  ab- 
sence from  her,  and  she  told  him  of  her  solitude  of 
six  long  months,  unbroken  save  for  the  poor  com- 
pany of  Fatimah  and  Habeebah,  wherein  she  had 
been  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb  to  all  the  world. 

During  the  months  thereafter  until  Ruth's  time 
was  full  Israel  sat  with  her  constantly.     He  could 


18  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

scarce  suffer  himself  to  leave  her  company.  He  cov- 
ered her  chamber  with  fruits  and  flowers.  There 
was  no  desire  of  her  heart  but  he  fulfilled  it.  And 
they  talked  together  lovingly  of  how  they  would 
name  the  child  when  the  time  came  to  name  it. 
Israel  concluded  that  if  it  was  a  son  it  should  be 
called  David,  and  Ruth  decided  that  if  it  was  a 
daughter  it  should  be  called  Xaomi.  And  Ruth  de- 
lighted to  tell  of  how  when  it  was  weaned  she  should 
take  it  up  to  the  synagogue  and  say,  "  0  Lord:  I  am 
the  woman  that  knelt  before  Thee  praying.  For 
this  child  I  prayed,  and  Thou  hast  heard  my  prayer." 
And  Israel  told  of  how  his  son  should  grow  up  to 
be  a  Rabbi  to  minister  before  God,  and  how  in  those 
days  it  should  come  to  pass  that  the  children  of  his 
father's  enemies  should  crouch  to  him  for  a  piece 
of  silver  and  a  morsel  of  bread.  Thus  thev  built 
themselves  castles  in  the  air  for  the  future  of  the 
child  that  was  to  come. 

Ruth's  time  came  at  last,  and  it  was  also  the  time 
of  the  Feast  of  the  Passover,  being  in  the  month  of 
\isan.  This  was  a  cause  of  joy  to  Israel,  for  he  was 
eager  to  triumph  over  his  enemies  face  to  face,  and 
he  could  not  wait  eight  other  days  for  the  Feast  of 
the  Circumcision.  So  he  set  a  supper  fit  for  a  king: 
the  fore-leg  of  a  sheep  and  the  fore-leg  of  an  ox,  the 
egg  roasted  in  ashes,  the  balls  of  Charoseth,  the  three 
Mitzvoth,  and  the  wine.  And  by  the  time  the  supper 
was  ready  the  midwife  had  been  summoned,  and  it 
was  the  day  of  the  night  of  the  Seder. 

Then  Israel  sent  messengers  round  the  Mellah 
to  summon  his  guests.  He  invited  his  enemies  only, 
lil-  bitterest  foes,  his  unceasing  revilers,  and  among 
them    were    the   three   usurers,    Abraham    Pigman, 


THE  BIRTH  OF  NAOMI.  19 

Judah  ben  Lolo,  and  Reuben  Maliki.  "  They  cursed 
me,"  he  thought,  "and  now  I  shall  look  on  their 
confusion."  His  heart  thirsted  to  summon  Rebecca 
Bensabbot  also,  but  he  knew  that  her  dainty  masters 
would  not  sit  at  meat  with  her. 

The  enemies  excused  themselves  and  refused,  say- 
ing it  was  the  Feast  of  the  Passover,  when  no  man 
should  sit  save  in  his  own  house  and  at  his  own  table. 
But  Israel  was  not  to  be  gainsaid.  He  went  out  to 
them,  and  said,  "  Come,  let  bygones  be  bygones.  It 
is  the  feast  of  our  nation.  Let  us  eat  and  drink  to- 
gether." So,  partly  by  reason  of  his  importunity, 
but  mainly  in  their  bewilderment,  yet  against  all  rule 
and  custom,  they  suffered  themselves  to  go. 

And  when  they  were  come  into  his  house  and 
were  seated  about  his  table  in  the  patio,  and  he  had 
washed  his  hands  and  taken  the  wine  and  blessed 
it,  and  passed  it  to  all,  and  they  had  drunk  together, 
he  could  not  keep  back  his  tongue  from  taunting 
them.  And  when  he  had  washed  again  and  dipped 
the  celery  in  the  vinegar,  and  they  had  drunk  of 
the  wine  once  more,  he  taunted  them  afresh  and 
laughed.  But  nothing  yet  had  they  understood  of 
his  meaning,  and  they  looked  into  each  other's  faces 
and  asked,  "What  is  it?" 

"Wait!  Only  wait!"  Israel  answered.  "You 
shall  see! " 

At  that  moment  Ruth  sent  for  him  to  her  cham- 
ber, and  he  went  in  to  her. 

"I  am  a  sorrowful  woman,"  she  said.  "  Some 
evil  is  about  to  befall— I  know  it,  I  feel  it." 

But  he  only  rallied  her  and  laughed  again,  and 
prophesied  joy  on  the  morrow.  Then,  returning  to 
the  patio,  where  the  passover  cakes  had  been  broken, 
3 


20  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

he  called  for  the  supper,  and  bade  his  guests  eat  and 
drink  as  much  as  their  hearts  desired. 

They  could  do  neither  now,  for  the  fear  that  pos- 
sessed them  at  sight  of  Israel's  frenzy.  The  three 
old  usurers,  Abraham,  Judah,  and  Reuben,  rose  to 
go,  but  Israel  cried,  "  Stay!  Stay,  and  see  what  is 
to  come!  "  and  under  the  very  force  of  his  will  they 
yielded  and  sat  down  again. 

Still  Israel  drank  and  laughed  and  derided  them. 
In  the  wild  torrent  of  his  madness  he  called  them  by 
names  they  knew  and  by  names  they  did  not  know — 
Harpagon,  Shylock,  Bildad,  Elihu — and  at  every  new 
name  he  laughed  again.  And  while  he  carried  him- 
self so  in  the  outer  court  the  slave  woman  Fatimah 
came  from  the  inner  room  with  word  that  the  child 
was  born. 

At  that  Israel  was  like  a  man  distraught.  He 
leapt  up  from  the  table  and  faced  full  upon  his 
guests,  and  cried,  "  Now  you  know  what  it  is;  and 
now  you  know  why  you  are  bidden  to  this  supper! 
You  are  here  to  rejoice  with  me  over  my  enemies! 
Drink!  drink!  Confusion  to  all  of  them!  "  And  he 
lifted  a  winecup  and  drank  himself. 

They  were  abashed  before  him,  and  tried  to  edge 
out  of  the  patio  into  the  street;  but  he  put  his  back 
to  the  passage,  and  faced  them  again. 

"Yon  will  not  drink?"  lie  said.  "Then  listen 
to  mo."  He  dashed  the  winecup  out  of  his  hand, 
and  it  broke  into  fragments  on  the  floor.  His  laugh- 
ter was  gone,  his  face  was  aflame,  and  his  voice  rose 
to  a  shrill  cry.  "  You  foretold  the  doom  of  God  upon 
me,  you  brought  me  low,  you  made  me  ashamed: 
but  behold  how  the  Lord  has  lifted  me  up!  You 
set  your  women  to  prophesy  that  God  would  not 


THE  BIRTH   OF   NAOMI.  21 

suffer  me  to  raise  up  children  to  be  a  reproach  and 
a  curse  among  my  people;  but  God  has  this  day  given 
me  a  son  like  the  best  of  you.  More  than  that — my 
son  shall  yet  see " 

The  slave  woman  was  touching  his  arm.  "  It  is 
a  girl/'  she  said;  "  a  girl!  " 

For  a  moment  Israel  stammered  and  paused. 
Then  he  cried,  "  No  matter!  She  shall  see  your  own 
children  fatherless,  and  with  none  to  show  them 
mercy!  She  shall  see  the  iniquity  of  their  fathers 
remembered  against  them!  She  shall  see  them  beg 
their  bread,  and  seek  it  in  desolate  places!  And 
now  you  can  go!    Go!  go!  " 

He  had  stepped  aside  as  he  spoke,  and  with  a 
sweep  of  his  arm  he  was  driving  them  all  out  like 
sheep  before  him,  dumfounded  and  with  their  eyes 
in  the  dust,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  low  cry  from 
the  inner  room. 

It  was  Ruth  calling  for  her  husband.  Israel 
wheeled  about  and  went  in  to  her  hurriedly,  and  his 
enemies,  by  one  impulse  of  evil  instinct,  followed 
him  and  listened  from  the  threshold. 

Ruth's  face  was  a  face  of  fear,  and  her  lips  moved, 
but  she  uttered  no  sound. 

And  Israel  said,  "  How  is  it  with  you,  my  dear- 
est, joy  of  my  joy  and  pride  of  my  pride?  " 

Then  Ruth  lifted  the  babe  from  her  bosom 
and  said,  "  The  Lord  has  counted  my  prayer  to 
me  as  sin — look,  see;  the  child  is  both  dumb  and 
blind!  " 

At  that  word  Israel's  heart  died  within  him,  but 
he  muttered  out  of  his  dry  throat,  "  No,  no,  never 
believe  it!  " 

"  True,  true,  it  is  true,"  she  moaned;  "the  child 


22  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

has  not  uttered  a  cry,  and  its  eyelids  have  not  blinked 
at  the  light." 

"  Never  believe  it!  "  Israel  growled,  and  he  lifted 
the  babe  in  his  arms  to  try  it. 

But  when  he  held  it  to  the  fading  light  of  the 
window  which  opened  upon  the  street  where  the 
woman  called  the  prophetess  had  cursed  him,  the 
eyes  of  the  child  did  not  close,  and  their  pupils  did 
not  diminish.  Then  his  limbs  began  to  tremble,  so 
that  the  midwife  took  the  babe  out  of  his  arms  and 
laid  it  again  on  its  mother's  bosom. 

And  Ruth  wept  over  it,  saying,  "  Even  if  it  were 
a  son  never  could  it  serve  in  the  synagogue!  Never! 
Never!  " 

At  that  Israel  began  to  curse  and  to  swear.  His 
enemies  had  now  pushed  themselves  into  the  cham- 
ber, and  they  cried,  "  Peace!  Peace!  "  And  old 
Judah  ben  Lolo,  the  elder  of  the  synagogue,  grunted, 
and  said,  "  Is  it  not  written  that  no  one  afflicted  of 
God  shall  minister  in  His  temples?" 

Israel  stared  around  in  silence  into  the  faces 
about  him,  first  into  the  face  of  his  wife,  and  next 
into  the  faces  of  his  enemies.  Then  he  fell  to  laugh- 
ing  hideously  and  crying,  "What  matter?  Every 
monkey  is  a  gazelle  to  its  mother!  r  But  after  that 
he  staggered,  his  knees  gave  way,  he  pitched  half 
forward  and  half  aside,  like  a  falling  horse,  and  with 
a  deep  groan  he  fell  with  his  face  to  the  floor. 

The  midwife  and  the  slave  lifted  him  up  and 
moistened  his  lips  with  water;  but  his  enemies  turned 
and  left  him,  muttering  among  themselves,  "The 
Lord  killeth  and  maketh  alive,  He  bringeth  low  and 
lifteth  up,  and  into  the  pit  that  the  evil  man  dig- 
geth  for  another  He  causeth  his  foot  to  slip." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   CHILDHOOD   OF   NAOMI. 

Throughout  Tetuan  and  the  country  round 
about  Israel  was  now  an  object  of  contempt.  God 
had  declared  against  him,  God  had  brought  him  low, 
God  Himself  had  filled  him  with  confusion.  Then 
why  should  man  show  him  mercy? 

But  if  he  was  despised  he  was  still  powerful. 
None  dare  openly  insult  him.  And,  between  their 
fear  and  their  scorn  of  him,  the  shifts  of  the  rabble 
to  give  vent  to  their  contempt  were  often  ludicrous 
enough.  Thus,  they  would  call  their  dogs  and  their 
asses  by  his  name,  and  the  dogs  would  be  the  scab- 
biest in  the  streets,  and  the  asses  the  laziest  in  the 
markets. 

He  would  be  caught  in  the  crush  of  the  traffic 
at  the  town  gate  or  at  the  gate  of  the  Mellah,  and 
while  he  stood  aside  to  allow  a  line  of  pack-mules 
to  pass  he  would  hear  a  voice  from  behind  him  cry- 
ing huskily,  "  Accursed  old  Israel!  Get  on  home  to 
your  mother! "  Then,  turning  quickly  round,  he 
would  find  that  close  at  his  heels  a  negro  of  most 
innocent  countenance  was  cudgelling  his  donkev  by 
that  title. 

He  would  go  past  the  Saints'  Houses  in  the  pub- 
lic ways,  and  at  the  sound  of  his  footstep  the 
bleached  and  eyeless  lepers  who  sat  under  the  white 

23 


24  ,THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

walls  crying  "Allah!  Allah!  Allah!"  would  sud- 
denly change  their  cry  to  "Arrah!  Arrah!  Arrah! " 
"Goon!    Goon!    Go"  on!  " 

Ee  would  walk  across  the  Sok  on  Fridays,  and 
hear  shrieks  and  peals  of  laughter,  and  see  grin- 
ning faces  with  gleaming  white  teeth  turned  in  his 
direction,  and  he  would  know  that  the  story-tellers 
were  mimicking  his  voice  and  the  jugglers  imitating 
his  gestures. 

His  prosperity  counted  for  nothing  against  the 
open  brand  of  God's  displeasure.  The  veriest  muck- 
worm in  the  market-place  spat  out  at  sight  of  him. 
Moor  and  Jew,  Arab  and  Berber — they  all  despised 
him! 

Nevertheless,  the  disaster  which  had  befallen  his 
house  had  not  crushed  him.  It  had  brought  out 
every  fibre  of  his  being,  every  muscle  of  his  soul. 
He  had  quarrelled  with  God  by  reason  of  it,  and  his 
quarrel  with  God  had  made  his  quarrel  with  his 
fellow-man  the  fiercer. 

There  was  just  one  man  in  the  town  who  found 
no  offence  in  either  form  of  warfare.  The  more 
wicked  the  one  and  the  more  outrageous  the  other, 
the  better  for  this  person. 

It  was  the  Governor  of  Tetuan.  His  name  was 
El  Arby.  but  he  was  known  as  Ben  Aboo,  the  son 
of  hi?  father.  That  father  had  been  none  other  than 
flu-  late  Sultan.  Therefore  Ben  Aboo  was  a  brother 
of  Abd  er-Bahman,  though  by  another  mother,  a 
negro  slave.  To  be  a  Sultan's  brother  in  Morocco 
is  not  to  be  a  Sultan's  favourite,  but  a  possible  as- 
pirant to  his  throne.  Nevertheless  Ben  Aboo  had 
been  made  a  Kaid,  a  chief,  in  the  Sultan's  army,  and 
eventually  a  commander-in-chief  of  his  cavalry.    In 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  NAOMI.  25 

that  capacity  he  had  led  a  raid  for  arrears  of  tribute 
on  the  Beni  Hasan,  the  Beni  Idar,  and  the  Wad  Eas. 
These  rebellious  tribes  inhabit  the  country  near  to 
Tetuan,  and  hence  Ben  Aboo's  attention  had  been 
first  directed  to  that  town.  When  he  had  returned 
from  his  expedition  he  offered  the  Sultan  fifteen 
thousand  dollars  for  the  place  of  its  Basha  or  Gov- 
ernor, and  promised  him  thirty  thousand  dollars  a 
year  as  tribute.  The  Sultan  took  his  money,  and 
accepted  his  promise.  There  was  a  Basha  at  Tetuan 
already,  but  that  was  a  trifling  difficulty.  The  good 
man  was  summoned  to  the  Sultan's  presence,  accused 
of  appropriating  the  Shereefian  tributes,  stripped  of 
all  he  had,  and  cast  into  prison. 

That  was  how  Ben  Aboo  had  become  Governor 
of  Tetuan,  and  the  story  of  how  Israel  had  become 
his  informal  Administrator  of  Affairs  is  no  less  curi- 
ous. At  first  Ben  Aboo  seemed  likely  to  lose  by  his 
dubious  transaction.  His  new  function  was  partly 
military  and  partly  civil.  He  was  a  valiant  soldier 
— the  black  blood  of  his  slave-mother  had  counted 
for  so  much;  but  he  was  a  bad  administrator — he 
could  neither  read  nor  write  nor  reckon  figures.  In 
this  dilemma  his  natural  colleague  would  have  been 
his  Khaleefa,  his  deputy,  Ali  bin  Jillool,  but  because 
this  man  had  been  the  deputy  of  his  predecessor  also, 
he  could  not  trust  him.  He  had  two  other  immedi- 
ate subordinates,  his  Commander  of  Artillery  and 
his  Commander  of  Infantry,  but  neither  of  them 
could  spell  the^  letters  of  his  name.  Then  there  was 
his  Taleb  the  Adel,  his  scribe  the  notary,  Hosain  ben 
Hashem,  styled  Haj,  because  he  had  made  the  pil- 
grimage to  Mecca,  but  he  was  also  the  Imam,  or  head 
of  the  Mosque,  and  the  wily  Ben  Aboo  foresaw  the 


26  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

danger  of  some  day  coming  into  collision  with  the 
religious  sentiment  of  his  people.  Finally,  there  was 
the  Kadi,  Mohammed  ben  Arby,  but  the  judge  was 
an  official  outside  his  jurisdiction,  and  he  wanted 
a  man  who  should  be  under  his  hand.  That  was  the 
combination  of  circumstances  whereby  Israel  came 
to  Tetuan. 

Israel's  first  years  in  his  strange  office  had  satis- 
fied his  master  entirely.  He  had  carried  the  Basha's 
seal  and  acted  for  him  in  all  affairs  of  money.  The 
revenues  had  risen  to  fifty  thousand  dollars,  so  that 
the  Basha  had  twenty  thousand  to  the  good.  Then 
Ben  Aboo's  ambition  began  to  override  itself.  He 
started  an  oil-mill,  and  wanted  Israel  to  select  a 
hundred  houses  owrned  by  rich  men,  that  he  might 
compel  each  house  to  take  ten  kollahs  of  oil — an  ex- 
travagant quantity,  at  seven  dollars  for  each  kollah 
— an  exorbitant  price.  Israel  had  refused.  "  It  is 
not  just,"  he  had  said. 

Other  expedients  for  enlarging  his  revenue  Ben 
Aboo  had  suggested,  but  Israel  had  steadfastly  re- 
sisted all  of  them.  Sometimes  the  Governor  had  pre- 
tended that  he  had  received  an  order  from  the  Sultan 
to  impose  a  gross  and  wicked  tax,  but  Israel's  answer 
had  been  the  same.  "  There  is  no  evil  in  the  world 
but  injustice."  he  had  said.  "  Do  justice,  and  you 
do  all  that  God  can  ask  or  man  expect." 

For  such  opposition  to  the  will  of  the  Basha  any 
other  person  would  have  been  cast  into  a  damp  dun- 
geon at  night,  and  chained  in  the  hot  sun  by  day. 
Israel  was  still  necessary.  So  Ben  Aboo  merely 
longed  for  the  dawn  of  that  day  whereon  he  should 
need  him  no  more. 

But  since  the  disaster  wrhich  had  befallen  Israel's 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  NAOMI.  27 

house  everything  had  undergone  a  change.  It  was 
now  Israel  himself  who  suggested  dubious  means  of 
revenue.  There  was  no  device  of  a  crafty  brain 
for  turning  the  very  air  itself  into  money — ransoms, 
promissory  notes,  and  false  judgments — but  Israel 
thought  of  it.  Thus  he  persuaded  the  Governor 
to  send  his  small  currency  to  the  Jewish  shops  to  be 
changed  into  silver  dollars  at  the  rate  of  nine  ducats 
to  the  dollar,  when  a  dollar  was  worth  ten  in  cur- 
rency. And  after  certain  of  the  shopkeepers,  having 
changed  fifty  thousand  dollars  at  that  rate,  fled  to 
the  Sultan  to  complain,  Israel  advised  that  their 
debtors  should  be  called  together,  their  debts  pur- 
chased, and  bonds  drawn  up  and  certified  for  ten 
times  the  amounts  of  them.  Thus  a  few  were  ban- 
ished from  their  homes  in  fear  of  imprisonment, 
many  were  sorely  harassed,  and  some  were  entirely 
ruined. 

It  was  a  strange  spectacle.  He  whom  the  rabble 
gibed  at  in  the  public  streets  held  the  fate  of  every 
man  of  them  in  his  hand.  Their  dogs  and  their  asses 
might  bear  his  name,  but  their  own  lives  and  liberty 
must  answer  to  it. 

Israel  looked  on  at  all  with  an  equal  mind,  nei- 
ther flinching  at  his  indignities  nor  glorying  in  his 
power.  He  beheld  the  wreck  of  families  without  re- 
morse, and  heard  the  wail  of  women  and  the  cry  of 
children  without  a  qualm.  Neither  did  he  delight 
in  the  sufferings  of  them  that  had  derided  him.  His 
evil  impulse  was  a  higher  matter — his  faith  in  jus- 
tice had  been  broken  up.  He  had  been  wrong.  There 
was  no  such  thing  as  justice  in  the  world,  and  there 
could,  therefore,  be  no  such  thing  as  injustice.  There 
was  nothing  but  the  blind  swirl  of  chance,  and  the 


28  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

wild  scramble  for  life.  The  man  had  quarrelled  with 
God. 

But  Israel's  heart  was  not  yet  dead.  There  was 
one  place,  where  he  who  bore  himself  with  such 
austerity  towards  the  world  was  a  man  of  great  ten- 
derness. That  place  was  his  own  home.  What  he 
saw  there  was  enough  to  stir  the  fountains  of  his 
being — nay,  to  exhaust  them,  and  to  send  him  abroad 
as  a  river-bed  that  is  dry. 

In  that  first  hour  of  his  abasement,  after  he  had 
been  confounded  before  the  enemies  whom  he  had 
expected  to  confound,  Israel  had  thought  of  him- 
self, but  Euth's  unselfish  heart  had  even  then 
thought  only  of  the  babe. 

The  child  was  born  blind  and  dumb  and  deaf. 
At  the  feast  of  life  there  was  no  place  left  for  it. 
So  Ruth  turned  her  face  from  it  to  the  wall,  and 
called  on  God  to  take  it. 

"  Take  it!  "  she  cried—"  take  it!  Make  haste,  0 
God,  make  haste  and  take  it!  " 

But  the  child  did  not  die.  It  lived  and  grew 
strong.  Ruth  herself  suckled  it,  and  as  she  nour- 
ished il  in  her  bosom  her  heart  yearned  over  it,  and 
she  forgot  the  prayer  she  had  prayed  concerning  it. 
So.  little  by  little,  her  spirit  returned  to  her,  and 
day  by  day  her  soul  deceived  her,  and  hour  by  hour 
an  angel  out  of  heaven  seemed  to  come  to  her  side 
and  whisper,  "Take  heart  of  hope,  0  Ruth!  God 
does  not  afflict  willingly.  Perhaps  the  child  is  not 
blind,  perhaps  it  is  not  deaf,  perhaps  it  is  not  dumb. 
Who  shall  yet  say?     Wait  and  see!" 

And,  during  the  first  few  months  of  its  life,  Ruth 
could  see  no  difference  in  her  child  from  the  children 
of  other  women.     Sometimes  she  would  kneel  by  its 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  NAOMI.  29 

cradle  and  gaze  into  the  flower-cup  of  its  eye,  and  the 
eye  was  blue  and  beautiful,  and  there  was  nothing  to 
say  that  the  little  cup  was  broken,  and  the  little 
chamber  dark.  And  sometimes  she  would  look  at  the 
pretty  shell  of  its  ear,  and  the  ear  was  round  and  full 
as  a  shell  on  the  shore,  and  nothing  told  her  that  the 
voice  of  the  sea  was  not  heard  in  it,  and  that  all  within 
was  silence.  So  Euth  cherished  her  hope  in  secret, 
and  whispered  her  heart  and  said,  "  It  is  well,  all  is 
well  with  the  child.  She  will  look  upon  my  face  and 
see  it,  and  listen  to  my  voice  and  hear  it,  and  her  own 
little  tongue  will  yet  speak  to  me,  and  make  me  very 
glad."  And  then  an  ineffable  serenity  would  spread 
over  her  face  and  transfigure  it. 

But  when  the  time  was  come  that  a  child's  eyes, 
having  grown  familiar  with  the  light,  should  look  on 
its  little  hands,  and  stare  at  its  little  fingers,  and 
clutch  at  its  cradle,  and  gaze  about  in  a  peaceful  per- 
plexity at  everything,  still  the  eyes  of  Ruth's  child  did 
not  open  in  sight,  but  lay  idle  and  empty.  And  when 
the  time  was  ripe  that  a  child's  ears  should  hear  from 
hour  to  hour  the  sweet  babble  of  a  mother's  love,  and 
its  tongue  begin  to  give  back  the  words  in  lisping 
sounds,  the  ear  of  Ruth's  child  heard  nothing,  and  its 
tongue  was  mute. 

Then  Ruth's  spirit  sank,  but  still  the  angel  out  of 
heaven  seemed  to  come  to  her,  and  find  her  a  thousand 
excuses,  and  say,  "  Wait,  Ruth;  only  wait,  only  a  little 
longer." 

So  Ruth  held  back  her  tears,  and  bent  above 
her  babe  again,  and  watched  for  its  smile  that  should 
answer  to  her  smile,  and  listened  for  the  prattle  of 
its  little  lips.  But  never  a  sound  as  of  speech  seemed 
to  break  the  silence  between  the  words  that  trembled 


30  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

from  her  own  tongue,  and  never  once  across  her 
baby's  face  passed  the  light  of  her  tearful  smile. 

It  was  a  pitiful  thing  to  see  her  wasted  pains, 
and  most  pitiful  of  all  for  the  pains  she  was  at  to 
conceal  them.  Thus,  every  day  at  midday  she  would 
carry  her  little  one  into  the  patio,  and  watch  if  its 
eyes  should  blink  in  the  sunshine;  but  if  Israel 
chanced  to  come  upon  her  then,  she  would  drop 
her  head  and  say,  "  How  sweet  the  air  is  to-day,  and 
how  pleasant  to  sit  in  the  sun! " 

"  So  it  is,"  he  would  answer,  "  so  it  is,  my  dear 
one." 

Thus,  too,  when  a  bird  was  singing  from  the  fig- 
tree  that  grew  in  the  court,  she  would  catch  up  her 
child  and  carry  it  close,  and  watch  if  its  ears  should 
hear;  but  if  Israel  saw  her,  she  would  laugh — a  little 
shrill  laugh  like  a  cry — and  cover  her  face  in  con- 
fusion. 

"  How  merry  you  are  this  morning,  sweetheart," 
he  would  say,  and  then  pass  into  the  house. 

For  a  time  Israel  tried  to  humour  her,  seeming 
not  to  see  what  he  saw,  and  pretending  not  to  hear 
what  he  heard.  But  every  day  his  heart  bled  at 
sight  of  her,  and  one  day  he  could  bear  up  no  longer, 
for  his  very  soul  had  sickened,  and  he  cried,  "  Have 
done,  Ruth! — for  mercy's  sake,  have  done!  The 
child  is  a  soul  in  chains,  and  a  spirit  in  prison.  Her 
eyes  are  darkness,  like  the  tomb's,  and  her  ears  are 
silence,  like  the  grave's.  Never  will  she  smile  to  her 
mother's  smile,  or  answer  to  her  father's  speech.  The 
first  sound  she  will  hear  will  be  the  last  trump,  and 
the  first  face  she  will  see  will  be  the  face  of  God." 

Ruth  flung  herself  down  and  burst  into  a  flood 
of  tears.    The  hope  that  she  had  cherished  was  dead. 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  NAOMI.  31 

Israel  could  comfort  her  no  longer.  The  fountain 
of  his  own  heart  was  dry.  He  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  went  away  to  his  bad  work  at  the  Kasbah. 

The  child  lived  and  thrived.  They  had  called 
her  Naomi,  as  they  had  agreed  to  do  before  she  was 
born,  though  no  name  she  knew  of  herself,  and  a 
mockery  it  seemed  to  name  her.  At  four  years  of 
age  she  was  a  creature  of  the  most  delicate  beauty. 
Notwithstanding  her  Jewish  parentage,  she  was  fair 
as  the  day  and  fresh  as  the  dawn.  And  if  her  eyes 
were  darkness,  there  was  light  within  her  soul;  and 
if  her  ears  were  silence,  there  was  music  within  her 
heart.  She  was  brighter  than  the  sun  which  she 
could  not  see,  and  sweeter  than  the  songs  which  she 
could  not  hear.  She  was  as  joyous  as  a  bird  in  its 
narrow  cage.  And,  like  the  bird  that  sings  at  mid- 
night, her  cheery  soul  sang  in  its  darkness. 

Only  one  sound  seemed  ever  to  come  from  her 
little  lips,  and  it  was  the  sound  of  laughter.  With 
this  she  lay  down  to  sleep  at  night,  and  rose  again 
in  the  morning.  She  laughed  as  she  combed  her 
hair,  and  laughed  again  as  she  came  tripping  out 
of  her  chamber  at  dawn. 

She  had  only  one  sentinel  on  the  outpost  of  her 
spirit,  and  that  was  the  sense  of  touch  and  feeling. 
With  this  she  seemed  to  know  the  day  from  the  night, 
and  when  the  sun  was  shining  and  when  the  sky  was 
dark.  She  knew  her  mother,  too,  by  the  touch  of 
her  fingers,  and  her  father  by  the  brushing  of  his 
beard.  She  knew  the  flowers  that  grew  in  the  fields 
outside  the  gate  of  the  town,  and  she  would  gather 
them  in  her  lap,  as  other  children  did,  and  bring 
them  home  with  her  in  her  hands.  She  seemed  al- 
most to  know  their  colours  also,  for  the  flowers  which 


32  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

she  would  twine  in  her  hair  were  red,  and  the  white 
were  those  which  she  would  lay  on  her  bosom.  And 
truly  a  flower  she  was  of  herself,  whereto  the  wind 
alone  could  whisper,  and  only  the  sun  could  speak 
aloud. 

Sweet  and  touching  were  the  efforts  she  some- 
times made  to  cling  to  them  that  were  about  her. 
Thus  her  heart  was  the  heart  of  a  child,  and  she 
knew  no  delight  greater  than  that  of  playing  with 
other  children.  But  her  father's  house  was  under 
a  ban;  no  child  of  any  neighbour  in  Tetuan  was 
allowed  to  cross  its  threshold,  and,  save  for  the  chil- 
dren whom  she  met  in  the  fields  when  she  walked 
there  by  her  mother's  hand,  no  child  did  she  ever 
meet. 

Ruth  saw  this,  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  she 
became  conscious  of  the  isolation  in  which  she  had 
lived  since  her  marriage  with  Israel.  She  had  her 
husband  for  companion  and  comrade,  but  her  little 
Naomi  was  doubly  and  trebly  alone — first,  alone  as 
a  child  that  is  the  only  child  of  her  parents;  again, 
alone  as  a  child  whose  parents  are  cut  off  from  the 
parents  of  other  children;  and  yet  again,  once  more 
alone  as  a  child  that  is  blind  and  dumb. 

Israel  saw  it  also,  and  one  day  he  brought  home 
with  him  from  the  Kasbah  a  little  black  boy  with  a 
sweet  round  face  and  big  innocent  white  eyes  which 
might  have  been  the  eyes  of  an  angel.  The  boy's 
name  was  Ali,  and  he  was  four  years  old.  His  father 
had  killed  his  mother  for  infidelity  and  the  neglect 
of  their  child,  and,  having  no  one  to  buy  him  out 
of  prison,  the  man  had  that  day  been  executed.  Then 
little  Ali  had  been  left  alone  in  the  world,  and  so 
Israel  had  taken  him. 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OF  NAOMI.  33 

Ruth  welcomed  the  boy,  and  adopted  him.  He 
had  been  born  a  Mohammedan,  but  secretly  she 
brought  him  up  as  a  Jew.  And  for  years  thereafter 
she  made  no  difference  between  him  and  her  own 
child  that  other  eyes  could  see.  They  ate  together, 
they  walked  abroad  together,  they  played  together, 
they  slept  together,  and  the  little  black  head  of  the 
boy  lay  with  the  fair  head  of  the  girl  on  the  same 
white  pillow. 

Strange  and  pathetic  were  the  relations  between 
these  little  exiles  of  humanity!  First,  on  Ali's  part, 
a  blank  wonderment  that  when  he  cried  to  Naomi, 
"  Come!  "  she  did  not  hear;  when  he  asked,  "  Why?  " 
she  did  not  answer;  and  when  he  said  "  Look!  "  she 
did  not  see,  though  her  blue  eyes  seemed  to  gaze  full 
into  his  face.  Then,  a  sort  of  amused  bewilderment 
that  her  little  nervous  fingers  were  always  touching 
his  arms  and  his  hands,  and  his  neck  and  his  throat. 
But  long  before  he  had  come  to  know  that  Naomi 
was  not  as  he  was,  that  Nature  had  not  given  her 
eyes  to  see  as  he  saw,  and  ears  to  hear  as  he  heard, 
and  a  tongue  to  speak  as  he  spoke,  Nature  herself 
had  overstepped  the  barriers  that  divided  them.  Ali 
found  that  Naomi  had  come  to  understand  him, 
whatever  in  his  little  way  he  did.  and  almost  what- 
ever in  his  little  way  he  said.  So  he  played  with 
her  as  he  would  have  played  with  any  other  play- 
mate, laughing  with  her,  calling  to  her,  and  going 
through  his  foolish  little  boyish  antics  before  her. 
Nevertheless,  by  some  mysterious  knowledge  of  Na- 
ture's own  teaching,  he  seemed  to  realise  that  it  was 
his  duty  to  take  care  of  her.  And  when  the  spirit 
of  mischief  in  his  little  manly  heart  would  prompt 
him  to  steal  out  of  the  house,  and  adventure  into  the 


34  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

streets  with  Naomi  by  his  side,  he  would  be  found 
iu  the  thick  of  the  throng,  perhaps  at  the  heels  of 
the  mules  and  asses,  with  Naomi's  hand  locked  in 
ins  hand,  trying  to  push  the  great  creatures  of  the 
crowd  from  before  her,  and  crying  in  his  brave  little 
treble,  "  Arrah!  "    "  Ar-rah!  "  "  Ar-r-rah!  " 

As  for  Naomi,  the  coming  of  little  black  Ali  was 
a  wild  delight  to  her.  Whatever  Ali  did,  she  would 
do  also.  If  he  ran  she  would  run;  if  he  sat  she  would 
sit;  and  meanwhile  she  would  laugh  with  a  heart 
of  glee,  all  the  same  that  she  did  not  hear  wdiat  he 
said,  and  did  not  see  what  he  did,  and  did  not  know 
what  he  meant.  At  the  time  of  the  harvest,  when 
Ruth  took  them  out  into  the  fields,  she  would  ride 
on  Air's  back,  and  snatch  at  the  ears  of  barley  and 
leap  in  her  seat  and  laugh,  though  she  could  see 
nothing  of  the  yellow7  corn,  and  hear  nothing  of  the 
song  of  the  reapers,  and  know  nothing  of  the  cries 
of  Ali,  who  shouted  to  her  while  he  ran,  forgetting 
in  his  playing  that  she  heard  him  not.  And  at  night, 
when  Ruth  put  them  to  bed  in  their  little  chamber, 
and  Ali  knelt  with  his  face  towards  Jerusalem,  Na- 
omi would  kneel  beside  him  with  a  reverent  air,  and 
all  her  laughter  would  be  gone.  Then,  as  he  prayed 
his  prayer,  her  little  lips  would  move  as  if  she  were 
praying  too,  and  her  little  hands  wrould  be  clasped 
together,  anrl  her  little  eyes  wrould  be  upraised. 

"  God  bless  father,  and  mother,  and  Naomi,  and 
everybody,"  the  black  boy  would  say. 

And  the  little  maid  would  touch  his  hands  and 
his  throat,  and  pass  her  fingers  over  his  face  from 
his  eyelids  to  his  lips,  and  then  do  as  he  did,  and  in 
her  silence  seem  to  echo  him. 

Pretty  and  piteous  sights!     One  thing  at  least 


THE  CHILDHOOD  OP  NAOMI.  35 

was  clear:  if  the  soul  of  this  child  was  in  prison,  nev- 
ertheless it  was  alive;  and  if  it  was  in  chains,  never- 
theless it  could  not  die,  but  was  immortal  and  un- 
maimed,  and  waited  only  for  the  hour  when  it  should 
be  linked  to  other  souls,  soul  to  soul  in  the  chains 
of  speech.  But  the  years  went  on,  and  Naomi  grew 
in  beauty  and  increased  in  sweetness,  but  no  angel 
came  down  to  open  the  darkened  windows  of  her 
eyes,  and  draw  aside  the  heavy  curtains  of  her  ears. 


CHAPTEK    IV. 

THE    DEATH    OF    RUTH. 

Foe  all  her  joy  and  all  her  prettiness,  Naomi  was 
a  burden  which  only  love  could  bear.  To  think  of 
the  girl  by  day,  and  to  dream  of  her  by  night,  never 
to  sit  by  her  without  pity  of  her  helplessness,  and 
never  to  leave  her  without  dread  of  the  mischances 
that  might  so  easily  befall,  to  see  for  her,  to  hear 
for  her,  to  speak  for  her,  truly  the  tyranny  of  the 
burden  was  terrible. 

Ruth  sank  under  it.  Through  seven  years  she 
was  eyes  of  the  child's  eyes,  and  ears  of  her  ears, 
and  tongue  of  her  tongue.  After  that  her  own  sight 
became  dim,  and  her  hearing  faint.  It  was  almost 
as  if  she  had  spent  them  on  Naomi  in  the  yearning 
of  love  and  pity.  Soon  afterwards  her  bodily  strength 
failed  her  also,  and  then  she  knew  that  her  time 
had  come,  and  that  she  was  to  lay  down  her  burden 
for  ever.  But  her  burden  had  become  dear,  and  she 
clung  to  it.  She  could  not  look  upon  the  child  and 
think  it,  that  she,  who  had  spent  her  strength  for 
her  from  the  first,  must  leave  her  now  to  other  love 
and  tending.  So  she  betook  herself  to  an  upper  room, 
and  gave  strict  orders  to  Fatimah  and  Ilabeebah 
that  Naomi  was  to  he  kept  from  her  altogether,  that 
sight  of  the  child's  helpless  happy  face  might  tempt 
her  soul  no  more. 
36 


THE  DEATH  OF  RUTH.  37 

There  in  her  death-chamber  Israel  sat  with  her 
constantly,  settling  his  countenance  steadfastly,  and 
coming  and  going  softly.  He  was  more  constant 
than  a  slave,  more  tender  than  a  woman.  His  love 
was  great,  and  he  was  eating  out  his  heart  with  re- 
morse. The  root  of  his  trouble  was  the  child.  He 
never  talked  of  her,  and  Ruth  rarely  dwelt  upon  her 
name.  Yet  they  thought  of  little  else  while  they 
sat  together. 

And  even  if  they  had  wished  to  speak  of  the 
child,  what  had  they  to  say  of  her?  They  had  no 
memories  to  recall,  no  sweet  childish  sayings,  no  sim- 
ple broken  speech,  no  pretty  lisp — they  had  nothing 
to  bring  back  of  all  the  dear  delicious  harvest  of 
recollection  that  lies  stored  in  the  treasure-houses 
of  the  hearts  of  happy  parents.  That  way  memory 
was  a  waste.  Always,  as  Israel  entered  her  room, 
Ruth  would  say,  "How  is  the  child?"  And  Israel 
would  answer,  "  She  is  well."  But,  if  at  that  mo- 
ment Naomi's  laughter  came  up  to  them  from  the 
patio,  where  she  played  with  Ali,  they  would  cover 
their  faces  and  be  silent. 

No  one  came  near  them — neither  Moor  nor  Jew, 
neither  Rabbi  nor  elder.  The  idle  women  of  the 
Mellah  would  sometimes  stand  outside  in  the  street 
and  look  up  at  their  house,  knowing  that  the  black 
camel  of  death  was  kneeling  at  their  gate.  Other 
company  they  had  none.  In  such  solitude  they 
passed  four  weeks,  and  when  the  time  of  the  end 
seemed  near,  Israel  himself  read  aloud  the  prayer 
for  the  dying,  the  prayer  Shema'  Yisrael,  and  Ruth 
repeated  the  words  of  it  after  him. 

Meantime  little  Naomi  sported  and  played  in 
the  patio  with  Ali,  but  she  missed  her  mother  con- 


38  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

stantly.  This  she  made  plain  by  many  silent  acts  of 
helpless  love  that  knew  no  way  to  speak  aloud.  Thus 
she  would  lay  flowers  on  the  seats  where  her  mother 
used  to  sit.  and,  if  at  night  she  found  them  untouched 
where  she  had  left  them,  her  little  face  would  fall, 
and  her  laughter  die  off  her  lips;  but  if  they  had 
withered  and  some  one  had  cast  them  into  the  oven, 
she  would  laugh  again  and  fetch  other  flowers  from 
the  fields,  until  the  house  would  be  full  of  the  odour 
of  the  meadow  and  the  scent  of  the  hill. 

And  well  they  knew,  who  looked  upon  her  then, 
whom  she  missed,  and  what  the  question  was  that 
halted  on  her  tongue;  yet  how  could  they  answer 
her?  There  could  be  no  way  to  do  that  until  she 
herself  knew  how  to  ask. 

But  this  she  did  on  a  day  near  to  the  end.  It 
was  evening,  and  she  was  being  put  to  bed  by  Hebee- 
bah,  and  had  just  risen  from  her  innocent  panto- 
mime of  prayer  beside  Ali,  when  Israel,  coming 
from  Buth's  chamber,  entered  the  children's  room. 
Then,  touching  with  her  hand  the  seat  whereon 
Iluth  had  used  to  sit,  Naomi  laid  down  her  head  on 
the  pillow,  and  then  rose  and  lay  down  again,  and 
then  came  to  where  Israel  was  and  stood  before  him. 
At  that  Israel  knew  that  the  soul  of  his  helpless 
child  had  asked  him,  as  plainly  as  words  of  the  tongue 
can  speak,  how  often  she  should  lie  to  sleep  at  night 
and  rise  to  play  in  the  morning  before  her  mother 
came  to  her  again. 

The  tears  gushed  into  his  eyes,  and  he  left  the 
children  and  returned  to  his  wife's  chamber. 

"  Ruth,"  he  cried,  "  call  the  child  to  you,  I  be- 
seech you!  " 

"  No,  no,  no!  "  cried  Ruth. 


THE  DEATH   OF  RUTH.  39 

"  She  misses  you,  and  fills  the  house  with  flowers 
for  you.    It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  her." 

"  It  will  break  mine  also,"  said  Ruth. 

But  she  consented  that  Naomi  should  be  called, 
and  Fatimah  was  sent  to  fetch  her. 

The  sun  was  setting,  and  through  the  window 
which  looked  out  to  the  west,  over  the  river  and  the 
orange  orchards  and  the  palpitating  plains  beyond, 
its  dying  rays  came  into  the  room  in  a  bar  of  golden 
light.  It  fell  at  that  instant  on  Ruth's  face,  and  she 
was  white  and  wasted.  And  through  the  other  win- 
dow of  the  room,  which  looked  out  over  the  Mellah 
into  the  town,  and  across  the  market-place  to  the 
mosque  and  to  the  battery  on  the  hill,  there  came  up 
from  the  darkening  streets  below  the  shuffle  of  the 
feet  of  a  crowd  and  the  sound  of  many  voices.  The 
Jews  of  Tetuan  were  trooping  back  to  their  own 
little  quarter,  that  their  Moorish  masters  might  lock 
them  into  it  for  the  night. 

Naomi  was  already  in  bed,  and  Fatimah  brought 
her  away  in  her  nightdress.  She  seemed  to  know 
where  she  was  to  be  taken,  for  she  laughed  as  Fati- 
mah held  her  by  the  hand,  and  danced  as  she  was 
led  to  her  mother's  chamber.  But  when  she  was 
come  to  the  door  of  it,  suddenly  her  laughter  ceased, 
and  her  little  face  sobered,  as  if  something  in  the 
close  abode  of  pain  had  troubled  the  senses  that 
were  left  to  her. 

When  Naomi  stood  like  a  little  white  vision  at  the 
threshold  of  the  room,  Israel  took  her  hand  in  si- 
lence, and  drew  her  up  to  the  pillow  of  the  bed 
where  her  mother  rested,  and  in  silence  Ruth  brought 
the  child  to  her  bosom. 

For  a  moment  Naomi  seemed  to  be  perplexed. 


40  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

She  touched  her  mother's  fingers,  and  they  were 
changed,  for  they  had  grown  thin  and  long.  Then 
she  felt  her  face,  and  that  was  changed  also,  for  it 
was  become  withered  and  cold.  And,  missing  the 
grasp  of  the  one  and  the  smile  of  the  other,  she  first 
turned  her  little  head  aside  as  one  that  listens  close- 
ly, and  then  gently  withdrew  herself  from  the  arms 
that  held  her. 

Ruth  had  watched  her  with  eyes  that  overflowed, 
and  now  she  hurst  into  sobs  outright. 

"  The  child  does  not  know  me!  "  she  cried.  "  Did 
I  not  tell  you  it  would  break  my  heart?" 

"  Try  her  again,"  said  Israel;  "  try  her  again." 

Ruth  devoured  her  tears,  and  called  on  Fatimah 
to  bring  the  child  back  to  her  side.  Then,  loosening 
the  necklace  that  was  about  her  own  neck,  she  bound 
it  about  the  neck  of  Naomi,  and  she  unclasped  the 
bracelets  that  were  on  her  wrists  and  clasped  them 
on  the  wrists  of  the  child.  She  did  this  that  Naomi 
might  remember  the  hands  that  had  been  kind  to 
her  always.  But  when  the  child  felt  the  ornaments 
she  seemed  only  to  know,  by  the  quick  instinct  of  a 
girl,  that  she  was  decked  out  bravely,  and  giving 
no  -thought  to  Ruth,  who  waited  and  watched  for 
the  grasp  of  recognition  and  the  kiss  of  joy,  she 
withdrew  herself  again  from  her  mother's  arms,  and 
bounded  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  suddenly 
began  to  laugh  and  to  dance. 

The  sun's  dying  light,  which  had  rested  on  Ruth's 
wasted  face,  now  glistened  and  sparkled  on  the  jewels 
of  the  child,  and  glowed  on  her  blind  eyes,  and 
gleamed  on  her  fair  hair,  and  reddened  her  white 
nightdress,  while  she  danced  and  laughed  to  her 
mother's  death.     The  child  knew  nothing  of  death, 


THE  DEATH   OF  RUTH.  41 

any  more  than  Adam  himself  before  Abel  was  slain, 
and  it  was  almost  as  if  a  devil  out  of  hell  had  entered 
into  her  innocent  heart,  that  she  might  make  a  mock 
of  the  dying  of  the  dearest  friend  she  had  known 
on  earth. 

On  and  on  she  danced,  to  no  measure  and  no 
time,  and  not  with  a  child's  uncertain  step  which 
breaks  down  at  motion  as  its  tongue  breaks  down 
at  speech,  but  wildly  and  deliriously.  The  room 
was  darkening  fast,  but  still  across  the  nether  end, 
by  the  foot  of  the  bed,  streamed  the  dull  red  bar  of 
sunlight  with  the  little  red  figure  leaping  and  pranc- 
ing and  laughing  in  the  midst  of  it. 

With  an  awful  cry  Euth  fell  back  on  the  pillow 
and  turned  her  eyes  to  the  wall.  The  black  woman 
dropped  her  head  that  she  might  not  see.  And 
Israel  covered  his  face  and  groaned  in  his  tearless 
agony,  "  0  Lord  God,  long  hast  Thou  chastised  me 
with  whips,  and  now  I  am  chastised  with  scorpions! ': 

Euth  recovered  herself  quickly.  "  Bring  her  to 
me  again!"  she  faltered;  and  once  more  Fatimah 
brought  Naomi  back  to  the  bedside.  Then,  embrac- 
ing and  kissing  the  child,  and  forgetting  in  the  tor- 
ment of  her  trouble  that  Naomi  could  not  hear  her, 
she  cried,  "It's  your  mother,  Naomi!  your  mother, 
darling,  though  so  sick  and  changed!  Don't  you 
know  her,  Naomi?  Your  mother,  your  own  mother, 
sweet  one,  your  dear  mother  who  loves  you  so,  and 
must  leave  you  now  and  see  you  no  more!  " 

Now  what  it  was  in  that  wild  plea  that  touched 
the  consciousness  of  the  child  at  last,  only  God  Him- 
self can  say.  But  first  Naomi's  cheeks  grew  pale  at 
the  embrace  of  the  arms  that  held  her,  and  then  they 
reddened,  and  then  her  little  nervous  fingers  grasped 


42  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

at  Ruth's  hands  again,  and  then  her  little  lips  trem- 
bled, and  then,  at  length,  she  flung  herself  along 
Ruth's  bosom  and  nestled  close  in  her  embrace. 

Ruth  fell  back  on  her  pillow  with  a  cry  of  joy; 
the  black  woman  stood  and  wept  by  the  wall;  and 
Israel,  unable  to  bear  up  his  heart  any  longer,  was 
melted  and  unmanned.  The  sun  had  gone  down, 
and  the  room  was  darkening  rapidly,  for  the  twilight 
in  that  land  is  short;  the  streets  were  quiet,  and 
the  mooddin  of  the  neighbouring  minaret  was 
chanting  in  the  silence,  "  God  is  great,  God  is 
great!" 

After  awhile  the  little  one  fell  asleep  at  her  moth- 
er's bosom,  and,  seeing  this,  Fatimah  would  have 
lifted  her  away  and  carried  her  back  to  her  own  bed; 
but  Ruth  said,  "  Xo;  leave  her,  let  me  have  her 
with  me  while  I  may." 

"  Xo  one  shall  take  her  from  vou,"  said  Israel. 

Then  she  gazed  down  at  the  child's  face  and  said. 
"  It  is  hard  to  leave  her  and  never  once  to  have  heard 
her  voice." 

"  That  is  the  bitterest  cup  of  all,"  said  Israel. 

"  I  shall  not  return  to  her,"  said  Ruth,  "  but  she 
shall  come  to  me,  and  then,  perhaps — who  knows? — 
perhaps  in  the  resurrection  I  shall  hear  it." 

Israel  made  no  answer. 

Until  <:;izcd  down  at  the  child  again,  and  said, 
"  My  helpless  darling!  Who  will  care  for  you  when 
I  am  gone?  " 

"  Rest,  rest,  and  sleep!  "  said  Israel. 

"Ah!  yes,  I  know,"  said  Ruth.  "How  foolish  of 
me!  You  are  her  father,  and  you  love  her  also.  Yet 
promise  me — promise " 

"  She  shall  never  want  for  anything,"  said  Israel. 


THE  DEATH   OP  RUTH.  43 

"  And  now  lie  you  still,  my  dearest;  lie  still  and 
sleep." 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him.  "  Yes,  that 
was  what  I  meant,"  she  said,  and  smiled.  Then  a 
shadow  crossed  her  face  in  the  gloom.  "  But  when 
I  am  gone,"  she  said,  "  will  Naomi  ever  know  that 
her  mother  who  is  dead  had  wronged  her?  " 

"  You  have  never  wronged  her,"  said  Israel. 
"Have  done,  oh,  have  done!" 

"  God  punished  us  for  our  prayer,  my  husband," 
said  Euth. 

"Peace,  peace!"  said  Israel. 

"  But  God  is  good,"  said  Euth,  "  and  surely  He 
will  not  afflict  our  child  much  longer." 

"Hush!  Hush!  You  will  awaken  her,"  said 
Israel,  not  thinking  what  he  said.  "  Lie  still  and 
sleep,  dearest.    You  are  tired  also." 

She  lay  quiet  for  a  time,  gazing,  while  the  light 
remained,  into  the  face  of  the  sleeping  child,  and 
listening,  when  the  light  failed,  to  her  gentle  breath- 
ing. Then  she  babbled  and  crooned  over  her  with 
a  childish  joy.  "  Yes,  yes,  father  is  right,  and  mother 
must  lie  quiet — very  quiet,  and  so  her  little  Naomi 
will  sleep  long — very  long,  and  wake  happy  and  well 
in  the  morning.  How  bonny  she  will  look!  How 
fresh  and  rosy!  " 

She  paused  a  moment.  Her  laboured  breathing 
came  quick  and  fast.  "  But  shall  J  be  here  to  see 
her?  shall  I?" 

She  paused  again,  and  then,  as  though  to  banish 
thought,  she  began  to  sing  in  a  low  voice  that  was 
like  a  moan.  Presently  her  singing  ceased,  and  she 
spoke  again,  but  this  time  in  broken  whispers. 

"How  soft  and  glossy  her  hair  is!    I  wonder  if 


44  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Fatimah  will  remember  to  wash  it  every  day.  She 
should  twist  it  around  her  fingers  to  keep  it  in  pretty 
curls.  .  .  .  Oh,  why  did  God  make  my  child  so  beau- 
tiful? .  .  .  Dear  me,  her  morning  frock  wanted 
stitching  at  the  sleeves;  it's  a  chance  if  Habeebah 
has  seen  to  it.  Then  there's  her  underclothing.  .  .  . 
AY  ill  she  be  deaf  and  blind  and  dumb  always?  I 
wonder  if  I  shall  see  her  when  I  .  .  .  They  say  that 
angels  are  sent.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes,  that's  it;  when  I  am 
there — there — I  will  go  to  God  and  say,  '  0  Lord! 
my  little  girl  whom  I  have  left  behind,  she  is  .  .  . 
You  would  never  think,  0  Lord,  how  many  things 
may  happen  to  one  like  her.  Let  me  go — only  let 
me  watch  over  her — 0  Lord,  let  me  be  her 
guar ' " 


Her  weakness  had  conquered  her.  and  she  was 
quiet  at  last.  Israel  sat  in  silence  by  the  post  of 
the  bed.  His  heart  was  surging  itself  out  of  his 
choking  breast.  The  black  woman  stood  somewhere 
by  the  wall.  After  a  time  Euth  seemed  to  awake 
as  from  sleep.    She  was  in  great  excitement. 

"Israel,  Israel!"  she  cried  in  a  voice  of  joy,  "I 
have  seen  a  vision.  It  was  Naomi.  She  was  no 
longer  deaf  and  blind  and  dumb.  She  was  grown 
to  be  a  woman,  but  I  knew  her  instantly.  Not  a 
woman  either,  but  a  young  maiden,  and  so  beautiful, 
so  beautiful!  Yes,  and  she  could  see  and  hear  and 
speak." 

He  thought  she  had  become  delirious,  and  he 
tried  to  soothe  her,  but  her  agitation  was  not  to  be 
overcome.  "  The  Lord  hath  seen  our  tears  at  last," 
she  cried,  "lie  lias  put  our  sin  beneath  His  feet. 
We  aro  forgiven.    It  will  be  well  with  the  child  yet." 

Israel  did  not  try  to  gainsay  her,  and  at  sight 


THE  DEATH  OF  RUTH.  45 

and  sound  of  her  joy,  seeing  it  so  beautiful,  yet 
thinking  it  so  vain,  he  could  not  help  but  weep. 
Presently  she  became  quiet  again,  and,  after  a  little 
while,  she  woke  as  from  a  sleep. 

"  I  am  ready  now,"  she  said  in  a  whisper,  "  quite 
ready,  sweet  Heaven,  quite,  quite  ready  now." 

Then  with  her  one  free  hand  she  felt  in  the  dark- 
ness for  Israel,  where  he  sat  beside  her,  and  touch- 
ing his  forehead  she  smoothed  it,  and  said  very  softly, 
"Farewell,  my  husband!  " 

And  Israel  answered  her,  "  Farewell!  " 

"  Good-night!  "    she  whispered. 

And  Israel  drew  down  her  hand  from  his  fore- 
head to  his  lips  and  sobbed,  and  said,  "  Good-night, 
beloved! " 

Then  she  put  her  white  lips  to  the  child's  blind 
eyes,  and  at  that  moment  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  came 
to  her,  and  the  Lord  took  her,  and  she  died. 


CHAPTER   V. 
euth's  bueial. 

The  people  of  Tetuan  were  not  melted  towards 
Israel  by  the  depth  of  his  sorrow  and  the  breadth 
of  shadow  that  lay  upon  him.  By  noon  of  the  day 
following  the  night  of  Ruth's  death,  Israel  knew  that 
he  was  to  be  left  alone.  It  was  a  rule  of  the  Mellah 
that  on  notice  being  given  of  a  death  in  their  quar- 
ter, the  clerk  of  the  synagogue  should  publish  it  at 
the  first  service  thereafter,  in  order  that  a  body  of 
men,  called  the  Hebra  Kadisha  of  Kabranim,  the 
Holy  Society  of  Buriers,  might  straightway  make 
arrangements  for  burial.  Early  prayers  had  been 
held  in  the  synagogue  at  eight  o'clock  that  morn- 
ing, and  no  one  had  yet  come  near  to  Israel's  house. 
The  men  of  the  Hebra  were  going  about  their  ordi- 
nary occupations.  They  knew  nothing  of  Ruth's 
death  by  official  announcement.  The  clerk  had  not 
published  it.  Israel  remembered  with  bitterness  that 
notice  of  it  bad  not  been  sent.  Nevertheless,  the 
fact  was  known  throughout  Tetuan.  There  was  not 
a  water-carrier  in  the  market-place  but  had  taken 
it  to  each  house  he  called  at,  and  passed  it  to  every 
man  he  met.  Little  groups  of  idle  Jewish  women 
had  been  many  hours  congregated  in  the  streets  out- 
side, talking  of  it  in  whispers  and  looking  up  at  the 
darkened  windows  with  awe.  But  the  synagogue 
46 


RUTH'S  BURIAL.  47 

knew  nothing  of  it.  Israel  had  omitted  the  custom- 
ary ceremony,  and  in  that  omission  lay  the  advan- 
tage of  his  enemies.  He  must  humble  himself  and 
send  to  them.  Until  he  did  so  they  would  leave  him 
alone. 

Israel  did  not  send.  Never  once  since  the  birth 
of  Naomi  had  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  syna- 
gogue. He  would  not  cross  it  now,  whether  in  body 
or  in  spirit.  But  he  was  still  a  Jew,  with  Jewish 
customs,  if  he  had  lost  the  Jewish  faith,  and  it  was 
one  of  the  customs  of  the  Jews  that  a  body  should 
be  buried  within  twenty-four  hours,  at  farthest,  from 
the  time  of  death.  He  must  do  something  immedi- 
ately. Some  help  must  be  summoned.  What  help 
could  it  be? 

It  was  useless  to  think  of  the  Muslimeen.  No 
believer  would  lend  a  hand  to  dig  a  grave  for  an  un- 
believer, or  to  make  apparel  for  his  dead.  It  was 
just  as  idle  to  think  of  the  Jews.  If  the  synagogue 
knew  nothing  of  this  burial,  no  Jew  in  the  Mellah 
would  be  found  so  poor  that  he  would  have  need  to 
know  more.  And  of  Christians  of  any  sort  or  condi- 
tion there  were  none  in  all  Tetuan. 

The  gall  of  Israel's  heart  rose  to  his  throat.  Was 
he  to  be  left  alone  with  his  dead  wife?  Did  his  ene- 
mies wish  to  see  him  howk  out  her. grave  with  his 
own  hands?  Or  did  they  expect  him  to  come  to 
them  with  bowed  forehead  and  bended  knee?  Either 
way  their  reckoning  was  a  mistake.  They  might  leave 
him  terribly  and  awfully  alone — alone  in  his  hour 
of  mourning  even  as  they  had  left  him  alone  in  his 
hour  of  rejoicing,  when  he  had  married  the  dear  soul 
who  was  dead.  But  his  strength  and  energy  they 
should  not  crush:    his  vital  and  intellectual  force 


48  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

they  should  not  wither  away.  Only  one  thing  they 
could  do  to  touch  him — they  could  shrivel  up  his  last 
impulse  of  sweet  human  sympathy.  They  were  doing 
it  now. 

When  Israel  had  put  matters  to  himself  so,  he 
despatched  a  message  to  the  Governor  at  the  Kasbah, 
and  received,  in  answer,  six  State  prisoners,  fettered 
in  pairs,  under  the  guard  of  two  soldiers. 

The  burial  took  place  within  the  limit  of  twenty- 
four  hours  prescribed  by  Jewish  custom.  It  was 
twilight  when  the  body  was  brought  down  from  the 
upper  room  to  the  patio.  There  stood  the  coffin  on 
a  trestle  that  had  been  raised  for  it  on  chairs  stand- 
ing back  to  back.  And  there,  too,  sat  Israel,  with 
Naomi  and  little  black  Ali  beside  him. 

Israel's  manner  was  composed;  his  face  was  as 
firm  as  a  rock,  and  his  dress  was  more  costly  than 
Tetuan  had  ever  seen  him  wear  before.  Every- 
thing that  related  to  the  burial  he  had  managed  him- 
self, down  to  the  least  or  poorest  detail.  But  there 
was  nothing  poor  about  it  in  the  larger  sense.  Israel 
was  a  rich  man  now,  and  he  set  no  value  on  his 
riches  except  to  subdue  the  fate  that  had  first  beaten 
him  down  and  to  abash  the  enemies  who  still  men- 
aced him.  Nothing  was  lacking  that  money  could 
buy  in  Tetuan  to  make  this  burial  an  imposing  cere- 
mony. Only  one  thing  it  wanted — it  wanted  mourn- 
ers, and  it  had  but  one. 

Unlike  her  father,  little  Naomi  was  visibly  ex- 
cited. She  ran  to  and  fro,  clutched  at  Israel's  clothes 
and  seemed  to  look  into  his  face,  clasped  the  hand  of 
little  Ali  and  held  it  long  as  if  in  fear.  Whether  she 
knew  what  work  was  afoot,  and,  if  she  knew  it,  by 
what  channel  of  soul  or  sense  she  learnt  it,  no  man 


RUTH'S  BURIAL.  49 

can  say.  That  she  was  conscious  of  the  presence 
of  many  strangers  is  certain,  and  when  the  men 
from  the  Kasbah  brought  the  roll  of  white  linen 
down  the  stairway,  with  the  two  black  woman  cling- 
ing to  it,  kissing  its  fringe  and  wailing  over  it,  she 
broke  away  from  Israel  and  rushed  in  among  them 
with  a  startled  cry,  and  her  little  white  arms  up- 
raised. But  whatever  her  impulse,  there  was  no 
need  to  check  her.  The  moment  she  had  touched 
her  mother  she  crept  back  in  dread  to  her  father's 
side. 

"  God  be  gracious  to  my  father,  look  at  that," 
whispered  Fatimah. 

"  My  child,  my  poor  child,"  said  Israel;  "  is  there 
but  one  thing  in  life  that  speaks  to  you?  And  is 
that  death?    Oh,  little  one,  little  one!  " 

It  was  a  strange  procession  which  then  passed 
out  of  the  patio.  Four  of  the  prisoners  carried  the 
coffin  on  their  shoulders,  walking  in  pairs  according 
to  their  fetters.  They  were  gaunt  and  bony  creatures. 
Hunger  had  wasted  their  sallow  cheeks,  and  the  air 
of  noisome  dungeons  had  sunken  their  rheumy  eyes. 
Their  clothes  were  soiled  rags,  and  over  them,  and 
concealing  them  down  to  their  waists  and  yet  lower, 
hung  the  deep,  rich,  velvet  pall,  with  its  long  silk 
fringes.  In  front  walked  the  two  remaining  prison- 
ers, each  bearing  a  great  plume  in  his  left  hand — 
the  right  arm,  as  well  as  the  right  leg,  being  chained. 
On  either  side  was  a  soldier,  carrying  a  lighted  lan- 
tern, which  burnt  small  and  feeble  in  the  twilight, 
and  last  of  all  came  Israel  himself,  unsupported  and 
alone.  Thus  they  passed  through  the  little  crowd 
of  idlers  that  had  congregated  at  the  door,  through 
the  streets  of  the  Mellah  and  out  into  the  market- 


50  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

place,  and  up  the  narrow  lane  that  leads  to  the  chief 
town  gate. 

There  is  something  in  the  very  nature  of  power 
that  demands  homage,  and  the  people  of  Tetuan 
could  not  deny  it  to  Israel.  As  the  procession  went 
through  the  town  they  cleared  a  way  for  it,  and  they 
were  silent  until  it  had  gone.  Within  the  gate  of 
the  Mellah,  a  shocket  was  killing  fowls  and  taking 
his  tribute  of  copper  coins,  but  he  stopped  his  work 
and  fell  back  as  the  procession  approached.  A 
blind  beggar  crouching  at  the  other  side  of  the  gate 
was  reciting  passages  of  the  Koran,  and  two  Arabs 
close  at  his  elbow  were  wrangling  over  a  game  at 
draughts  which  they  were  playing  by  the  light  of 
a  flare,  but  both  curses  and  Koran  ceased  as  the  pro- 
cession passed  under  the  arch.  In  the  market-place 
a  Soosi  juggler  was  performing  before  a  throng  of 
laughing  people,  and  a  story-teller  was  shrieking  to 
the  twang  of  his  ginbri;  but  the  audience  of  the  jug- 
gler broke  up  as  the  procession  appeared,  and  the 
ginbri  of  the  story-teller  was  no  more  heard.  The 
hammering  in  the  shops  of  the  gunsmiths  was 
stopped,  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells  of  the  water- 
carriers  was  silenced.  Mules  bringing  wood  from 
the  country  were  dragged  out  of  the  path,  and  the 
town  asses,  with  their  panniers  full  of  street-filth, 
were  drawn  up  by  the  wall.  From  the  market-place 
and  out  of  the  shops,  out  of  the  houses  and  out  of 
the  mosque  itself,  the  people  came  trooping  in  crowds, 
and  they  made  a  long  close  line  on  either  side  of 
the  course  which  the  procession  must  take.  And 
through  this  avenue  of  onlookers  the  strange  com- 
pany made  its  way — the  two  prisoners  bearing  the 
plumes,  the  four  others  bearing  the  coffin,  the  two 


RUTH'S  BURIAL.  51 

soldiers  carrying  the  lanterns,  and  Israel  last  of  all, 
unsupported  and  alone.  Nothing  was  heard  in  the 
silence  of  the  people  but  the  tramp  of  the  feet  of  the 
six  men,  and  the  clank  of  their  chains.  The  light  of 
the  lanterns  was  on  the  faces  of  some  of  them,  and 
every  one  knew  them  for  what  they  were.  It  was 
on  the  face  of  Israel  also,  yet  he  did  not  flinch.  His 
head  was  held  steadily  upward;  he  looked  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left,  but  strode  firmly  along. 

The  Jewish  cemetery  was  outside  the  town  walls, 
and  before  the  procession  came  to  it  the  darkness 
had  closed  in.  Its  flat  white  tombstones,  all  point- 
ing toward  Jerusalem,  lay  in  the  gloom  like  a  flock 
of  sheep  asleep  among  the  grass.  It  had  no  gate  but 
a  gap  in  the  fence,  and  no  fence  but  a  hedge  of  the 
prickly  pear  and  the  aloe. 

Israel  had  opened  a  grave  for  Euth  beside  the 
grave  of  the  old  rabbi  her  father.  He  had  asked  no 
man's  permission  to  do  so,  but  if  no  one  had  helped 
at  that  day's  business,  neither  had  any  one  dared 
to  hinder.  And  when  the  coffin  was  set  down  by 
the  grave-side  no  ceremony  did  Israel  forget  and 
none  did  he  omit.  He  repeated  the  Kaddesh,  and 
cut  the  notch  in  his  kaftan;  he  took  from  his  breast 
the  little  linen  bag  of  the  white  earth  of  the  land 
of  promise  and  laid  it  under  the  head;  he  locked  a 
padlock  and  flung  away  the  key.  Last  of  all,  when 
the  body  had  been  taken  out  of  the  coffin  and  low- 
ered to  its  long  home,  he  stepped  in  after  it,  and 
called  on  one  of  the  soldiers  to  lend  him  a  lantern. 
And  then,  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  his  dead  wife,  he 
touched  her  with  both  his  hands,  and  spoke  these 
words  in  a  clear,  firm  voice,  looking  down  at  her 
where  she  lay  in  the  veil  that  she  had  used  to  wear 
5 


52  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

in  the  synagogue,  and  speaking  to  her  as  though 
she  heard :  "  Ruth,  my  wife,  my  dearest,  for  the  cruel 
wrong  which  I  did  you  long  ago  when  I  suffered  you 
to  marry  me,  being  a  man  such  as  I  was,  under  the 
ban  of  my  people,  forgive  me  now,  my  beloved,  and 
ask  God  to  forgive  me  also." 

The  dark  cemetery,  the  six  prisoners  in  their 
clanking  irons,  the  two  soldiers  with  their  lanterns, 
the  open  grave,  and  this  strong-hearted  man  kneel- 
ing within  it,  that  he  might  do  his  last  duty,  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  his  race  and  faith,  to  her  whom 
he  had  wronged  and  should  meet  no  more  until  the 
resurrection  itself  reunited  them!  The  traffic  of 
the  streets  had  begun  again  by  this  time,  and  be- 
tween the  words  which  Israel  had  spoken  the  low 
hum  of  many  voices  had  come  over  the  dark  town 
walls. 

The  six  prisoners  went  back  to  the  Kasbah  with 
joyful  hearts,  for  each  carried  with  him  a  paper 
which  procured  his  freedom  on  the  day  following. 
But  Israel  returned  to  his  home  with  a  soured  and 
darkened  mind.  As  he  had  plucked  his  last  hand- 
ful of  the  grass,  and  flung  it  over  his  shoulder,  say- 
ing, "They  shall  spring  in  the  cities  as  the  grass 
in  the  earth,"  he  had  asked  himself  what  it  mat- 
tered to  him  though  all  the  world  were  peopled,  now 
thai  she,  who  had  been  all  the  world  to  him,  was 
dead.  God  had  left  him  as  a  lonely  pilgrim  in  a 
dreary  desert.  Only  one  glimpse  of  human  affection 
had  he  known  as  a  man,  and  here  it  was  taken  from 
him  for  ever. 

And  when  he  remembered  Naomi,  he  quarrelled 
with  God  again.  She  was  a  helpless  exile  among 
men,  a  creature  banished  from  all  human  intercourse, 


RUTH'S  BURIAL.  53 

a  living  soul  locked  in  a  tabernacle  of  flesh.  Was 
it  a  good  God  who  had  taken  the  mother  from  such 
a  child — the  child  from  such  a  mother?  Israel  was 
heart-smitten,  and  his  soul  blasphemed.  It  was  not 
God  but  the  devil  that  ruled  the  world.  It  was  not 
justice  but  evil  that  governed  it. 

Thus  did  this  outcast  man  rebel  against  God, 
thinking  of  the  child's  loss  and  of  his  own;  but  never- 
theless by  the  child  itself  he  was  yet  to  be  saved  from 
the  devil's  snare,  and  the  ways  wherein  this  sweet 
flower,  fresh  from  God's  hand,  wrought  upon  his 
heart  to  redeem  it  were  very  strange  and  beautiful. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    SPIRIT-MAID. 

The  promise  which  Israel  made  to  Ruth  at  her 
death,  that  Naomi  should  not  lack  for  love  and  tend- 
ing, he  faithfully  fulfilled.  From  that  time  forward 
he  became  as  father  and  mother  both  to  the  child. 

At  the  outset  of  his  charge  he  made  a  survey 
of  her  condition,  and  found  it  more  terrible  than 
imagination  of  the  mind  could  think  or  words  of 
the  tongue  express.  It  was  easy  to  say  that  she  was 
deaf  and  dumb  and  blind,  but  it  was  hard  to  realise 
what  so  great  an  affliction  implied.  It  implied  that 
she  was  a  little  human  sister  standing  close  to  the 
rest  of  the  family  of  man,  yet  very  far  away  from 
them.  She  was  as  much  apart  as  if  she  had  in- 
habited a  different  sphere.  No  human  sympathy 
could  reach  her  in  joy  or  pain  and  sorrow.  She  had 
no  part  to  play  in  life.  In  the  midst  of  a  world  of 
light  she  was  in  a  land  of  darkness,  and  she  was  in 
a  world  of  silence  in  the  midst  of  a  land  of  sweet 
sounds.    She  was  a  living  and  buried  soul. 

And  of  that  soul  itself  what  did  Israel  know? 
He  knew  that  it  had  memory,  for  Naomi  had  remem- 
bered her  mother;  and  he  knew  that  it  had  love,  for 
she  had  pined  for  Ruth,  and  clung  to  her.  But  what 
were  love  and  memory  without  sight  and  speech? 
They  were  no  more  than  a  magnet  locked  in  a  casket 
54 


THE  SPIRIT-MAID.  55 

— idle  and  useless  to  any  purposes  of  man  or  the 
world . 

Thinking  of  this,  Israel  realised  for  the  first  time 
how  awful  was  the  affliction  of  his  motherless  girl. 
To  be  blind  was  to  be  afflicted  once,  but  to  be  both 
blind  and  deaf  was  not  only  to  be  afflicted  twice, 
but  twice  ten  thousand  times,  and  to  be  blind  and 
deaf  and  dumb  was  not  merely  to  be  afflicted  thrice, 
but  beyond  all  reckonings  of  human  speech. 

For  though  Naomi  had  been  blind,  yet,  if  she 
could  have  had  hearing,  her  father  might  have  spoken 
with  her,  and  if  she  had  sorrows  he  must  have  soothed 
them,  and  if  she  had  joys  he  must  have  shared  them, 
and  in  this  beautiful  world  of  God,  so  full  of  things 
to  look  upon  and  to  love,  he  must  have  been  eyes 
of  her  eyes  that  could  not  see.  On  the  other  hand, 
though  Naomi  had  been  deaf,  yet  if  she  could  have 
had  sight  her  father  might  have  held  intercourse  with 
her  by  the  light  of  her  eyes,  and  if  she  felt  pain  he 
must  have  seen  it,  and  if  she  had  found  pleasure  he 
must  have  known  it,  and  what  man  is,  and  what 
woman  is,  and  what  the  world  and  what  the  sea  and 
what  the  sky,  would  have  been  as  an  open  book  for 
her  to  read.  But,  being  blind  and  deaf  together, 
and,  by  fault  of  being  deaf,  being  dumb  as  well,  what 
word  was  to  describe  the  desolation  of  her  state,  the 
blank  void  of  her  isolation — cut  off,  apart,  aloof,  shut 
in,  imprisoned,  enchained,  a  soul  without  communion 
with  other  souls:  alive,  and  yet  dead? 

Thus  realising  Naomi's  condition  in  the  deep 
infirmity  of  her  nature,  Israel  set  himself  to  consider 
how  he  could  reach  her  darkened  and  silent  soul. 
And  first  he  tried  to  learn  what  good  gifts  were  left 
to  her,  that  he  might  foster  them  to  her  advantage 


56  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  nourish  them  to  his  own  great  comfort  and  joy. 
Yet  no  gift  whatever  could  he  find  in  her  but  the 
one  gift  only  whereof  he  had  known  from  the  begin- 
ning— the  gift  of  touch  and  feeling.  With  this  he 
must  make  her  to  see,  or  else  her  light  should  always 
be  darkness,  and  with  this  he  must  make  her  to  hear, 
or  silence  should  be  her  speech  for  ever. 

Then  he  remembered  that  during  his  years  in 
England  he  had  heard  strange  stories  of  how  the 
dumb  had  been  made  to  speak  though  they  could 
not  hear,  and  the  blind  and  deaf  to  understand  and 
to  answer.  So  he  sent  to  England  for  many  books, 
written  on  the  treatment  of  these  children  of  afflic- 
tion, and  when  they  were  come  he  pondered  them 
closely  and  was  thrilled  by  the  marvellous  works  they 
described.  But  when  he  came  to  practise  the  pre- 
cepts they  had  given  him,  his  spirits  flagged,  for  the 
impediments  were  great.  Time  after  time  he  tried, 
and  failed  always,  to  touch  by  so  much  as  one  shaft 
of  light  the  hidden  soul  of  the  child  through  its  tene- 
ment of  flesh  and  blood.  Neither  the  simplest 
thought  nor  the  poorest  element  of  an  idea  found 
any  way  to  her  mind,  so  dense  were  the  walls  of  the 
prison  that  encompassed  it.  "  Yes  "  was  a  mystery 
that  could  not  at  first  be  revealed  to  her,  and  "  No  " 
was  a  problem  beyond  her  power  to  apprehend. 
Smiles  and  frowns  were  useless  to  teach  her.  No 
discipline  could  be  addressed  to  her  mind  or  heart. 
Except  mere  bodily  restraint,  no  control  could  be  im- 
posed  upon  her.  She  was  swayed  by  her  impulses 
alone 

l-rael  did  not  despair.  If  he  was  broken  down 
to-day  ho  strengthened  his  hands  for  to-morrow.  At 
length  he  had  got  so  far,  after  a  world  of  toil  and 


THE  SPIRIT-MAID.  57 

thought,  that  Naomi  knew  when  he  patted  her  head 
that  it  was  for  approval,  and  when  he  touched  her 
hand  it  was  for  assent.  Then  he  stopped  very  sud- 
denly. His  hope  had  not  drooped,  and  neither  had 
his  energy  failed,  but  the  conviction  had  fastened 
upon  him  that  such  effort  in  his  case  must  be  an 
offence  against  Heaven.  Naomi  was  not  merely  an 
infirm  creature  from  the  left  hand  of  Nature;  she 
was  an  afflicted  being  from  the  right  hand  of  God. 
She  was  a  living  monument  of  sin  that  was  not  her 
own.  It  was  useless  to  go  farther.  The  child  must 
be  left  where  God  had  placed  her. 

But  meanwhile,  if  Naomi  lacked  the  senses  of 
the  rest  of  the  human  kind,  she  seemed  to  communi- 
cate with  Nature  by  other  organs  than  they  pos- 
sessed. It  was  as  if  the  spiritual  world  itself  must 
have  taught  her,  and  from  that  source  alone  could 
she  have  imbibed  her  power.  To  tell  of  all  she  could 
do  to  guide  her  steps,  and  to  minister  to  her  pleas- 
ures, and  to  cherish  her  affections,  would  be  to  go 
beyond  the  limit  of  belief.  Truly  it  seemed  as  if 
Naomi,  being  blind  with  her  bodily  eyes,  could  yet 
look  upon  a  light  that  no  one  else  could  see,  and, 
being  deaf  with  her  bodily  ears,  could  yet  listen  to 
voices  that  no  one  else  could  hear. 

Thus,  if  she  came  skipping  through  the  corridor 
of  the  patio,  she  knew  when  any  one  approached 
her,  for  she  would  hold  out  her  hands  and  stop. 
Nay;  but  she  knew  also  who  it  would  be  as  well  as 
if  her  eyes  or  ears  had  taught  her;  for  always,  if  it 
was  her  father,  she  reached  out  her  hands  to  take 
his  left  hand  in  both  of  hers,  and  then  she  pressed 
it  against  her  cheek;  and  always,  if  it  was  little 
Ali,  she  curved  her  arms  to  encircle  his  neck;  and 


58  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

always,  if  it  was  Fatimah,  she  leapt  up  to  her  bosom; 
and  always,  if  it  was  Habeebah,  she  passed  her  by. 
Did  she  go  with  Ali  into  the  streets,  she  knew  the 
Mellah  gate  from  the  gate  of  the  town,  and  the  nar- 
row lanes  from  the  open  Sok.  Did  she  pass  the  lofty 
mosque  in  the  market-place,  she  knew  it  from  the 
low  shops  that  nestled  under  and  behind  and  around. 
Did  a  troop  of  mules  and  camels  come  near  her,  she 
knew  them  from  a  crowd  of  people;  and  did  she  pass 
where  two  streets  crossed,  she  would  stand  and  face 
both  ways. 

And  as  the  years  grew  she  came  to  know  all  places 
within  and  around  Tetuan,  the  town  of  the  Moors 
and  the  Mellah  of  the  Jews,  the  Kasbah  and  the 
narrow  lane  leading  up  to  it,  the  fort  on  the  bill  and 
the  river  under  the  town  walls,  the  mountains  on 
either  side  of  the  valley,  and  even  some  of  their  rocky 
gorges.  She  could  find  her  way  among  them  all  with- 
out help  or  guidance,  and  no  control  could  any  one 
impose  upon  her  to  keep  her  out  of  the  way  of  harm. 
While  Ali  was  a  little  fellow  he  was  her  constant 
companion,  always  ready  for  any  adventure  that  her 
unquiet  heart  suggested;  but  when  he  grew  to  be  a 
boy,  and  was  sent  to  school  every  day  early  and  late, 
she  would  fare  forth  alone  save  for  a  tiny  white  goat 
which  her  father  had  bought  to  be  another  play- 
fellow. 

And  because  feeling  was  sight  to  her,  and  touch 
was  hearing,  and  the  crown  of  her  head  felt  the  winds 
of  the  heavens  and  the  soles  of  her  feet  felt  the  grass 
of  the  fields,  she  loved  best  to  go  bareheaded  whether 
the  sun  was  high  or  the  air  was  cool,  and  barefooted 
also,  from  the  rising  of  the  morning  until  the  com- 
ing of  the  stars.    So,  casting  off  bor  slippers  and  the 


THE  SPIRIT-MAID.  59 

great  straw  hat  which  a  Jewish  maiden  wears,  and 
clad  in  her  white  woollen  shawl,  wrapped  loosely 
about  her  in  folds  of  airy  grace,  and  with  the  little 
goat  going  before  her,  though  she  could  neither  see 
nor  hear  it,  she  would  climb  the  hill  beyond  the  bat- 
tery, and  stand  on  the  summit,  like  a  spirit  poised 
in  air.  She  could  see  nothing  of  the  green  valley 
then  stretched  before  her,  or  of  the  white  town  lying 
below,  with  its  domes  and  minarets,  but  she  seemed 
to  exult  in  her  lofty  place,  and  to  drink  new  life  from 
the  rush  of  mighty  winds  about  her.  Then  coming 
back  to  the  dale,  she  would  seem,  to  those  who  looked 
up  at  her,  with  fear  and  with  awe,  to  leap  as  the  goat 
leapt  in  the  rocky  places;  and  as  a  bird  sweeps  over 
the  grass  with  wings  outstretched,  so  with  her  arms 
spread  out,  and  her  long  fair  hair  flying  loose,  she 
would  sweep  down  the  hill,  as  though  her  very  tip- 
toes did  not  touch  it. 

By  what  power  she  did  these  things  no  man  could 
tell,  except  it  were  the  power  of  the  spiritual  world 
itself;  but  the  distemper  of  the  mind,  which  loved 
such  dangers,  increased  upon  her  as  she  grew  from 
a  child  into  a  maid,  and  it  found  new  ways  of  strange- 
ness. Thus,  in  the  spring,  when  the  rain  fell  heav- 
ily, or  in  the  winter,  when  the  great  winds  were 
abroad,  or  in  the  summer,  when  the  lightning  light- 
ened and  the  thunder  thundered,  her  restless  spirit 
seemed  to  be  roused  to  sympathetic  tumults,  and  if 
she  could  escape  the  eyes  that  watched  her  she  would 
run  and  race  in  the  tempest,  and  her  eyes  would  be 
aglitter,  and  laughter  would  be  on  her  lips.  Then 
Israel  himself  would  go  out  to  find  her,  and,  having 
found  her  in  the  pelting  storm  without  covering  on 
her  head  or  shoes  on  her  feet,  he  would  fetch  her 


60  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

home  by  the  hand,  and  as  they  passed  through  the 
streets  together  his  forehead  would  he  bowed  and  his 
eyes  bent  down. 

But  it  was  not  always  that  Naomi  made  her  father 
ashamed.  More  often  her  joyful  spirit  cheered  him, 
for  above  all  things  else  she  was  a  creature  of  joy. 
A  circle  of  joy  seemed  to  surround  her  always.  Her 
heart  in  its  darkness  was  full  of  radiance.  As  she 
grew  her  comeliness  increased,  though  this  was 
strange  and  touching  in  her  beauty,  that  her  face 
did  not  become  older  with  her  years,  but  was  still 
the  face  of  a  child,  with  a  child's  expression  of  sweet- 
ness through  the  bloom  and  flush  of  early  maiden- 
hood. Her  love  of  flowers  increased  also,  and  the 
sense  of  smell  seemed  to  come  to  her,  for  she  filled 
the  house  with  all  fragrant  flowers  in  their  season, 
twining  them  in  wreaths  about  the  white  pillars  of 
the  patio,  and  binding  them  in  rings  around  the 
brown  water-jars  that  stood  in  it.  And  with  the  girl's 
expanding  nature  her  love  of  dress  increased  as  well; 
but  it  was  not  a  young  maid's  love  of  lovely  things; 
it  was  a  wild  passion  for  light,  loose  garments  that 
swayed  and  swirled  in  native  grace  about  her.  Truly 
she  was  a  spirit  of  joy  nod  gladness.  She  was  happy 
as  a  day  in  summer,  and  fresh  as  a  dewy  morning 
in  spring.  The  ripple  of  her  laughter  was  like  sun- 
shine A  flood  of  sunshine  seemed  to  follow  in  the 
air  wheresoever  she  went.  And  certainly  for  Israel, 
her  father,  she  was  as  a  sunbeam  gathering  sunshine 
into  his  lonely  house. 

Nevertheless,  the  sunbeam  had  its  cloud-shapes 
of  gloom,  and  if  Israel  in  his  darker  hours  hungered 
for  more  human  company,  and  wished  that  the  little 
playfellow  of  the  angels  which  had  come  down  to  his 


THE  SPIRIT-MAID.  61 

dwelling  could  only  be  his  simple  human  child,  he 
sometimes  had  his  wish,  and  many  throbs  of  anguish 
with  it.  For  often  it  happened,  and  especially  at 
seasons  when  no  winds  were  stirring,  and  blank  peace 
and  a  doleful  silence  haunted  the  air,  that  Naomi 
would  seem  to  fall  into  a  sick  longing  from  causes 
that  were  beyond  Israel's  power  to  fathom.  Then 
her  sweet  face  would  sadden,  and  her  beautiful  blind 
eyes  would  fill,  and  her  pretty  laughter  would  echo 
no  more  through  the  house.  And  sometimes,  in  the 
dead  of  the  night,  she  would  rise  from  her  bed  and 
go  through  the  dark  corridors,  for  darkness  and  light 
were  as  one  to  her,  until  she  came  to  Israel's  room, 
and  he  would  awake  from  his  sleep  to  find  her,  like 
a  little  white  vision,  standing  by  his  bedside.  What 
she  wanted  there  he  could  never  know,  for  neither 
had  he  power  to  ask  nor  she  to  answer,  whether  she 
were  sick  or  in  pain,  or  whether  in  her  sleep  she  had 
seen  a  face  from  the  invisible  world,  and  heard  a 
voice  that  called  her  away,  or  whether  her  mother's 
arms  had  seemed  to  be  about  her  once  again  and 
then  to  be  torn  from  her  afresh,  and  she  had  come 
to  him  on  awakening  in  her  trouble,  not  knowing 
what  it  is  to  dream,  but  thinking  all  evil  dreams  to 
be  true  fact  and  new  sorrow.  So,  with  a  sigh,  he 
would  arise  and  light  his  lamp  and  lead  her  back 
to  her  bed,  and  more  scalding  than  the  tears  that 
would  be  standing  in  Naomi's  eyes  would  be  the  hot 
drops  that  would  gush  into  his  own. 

"  My  poor  darling,"  he  would  say,  "  can  you  not 
tell  me  your  trouble,  that  I  may  comfort  you?  No, 
no,  she  cannot  tell  me,  and  I  cannot  comfort  her. 
My  darling,  my  darling." 

Most  of  all  when  such  things  befell  would  Israel 


62  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

long  for  some  miracle  out  of  heaven  to  find  a  way  to 
the  little  maiden's  mind  that  she  might  ask  and  an- 
swer and  know,  yet  he  dared  not  to  pray  for  it,  for 
still  greater  than  his  pity  for  the  child  was  his  fear 
of  the  wrath  of  God.  And  out  of  this  fear  there  came 
to  him  at  length  an  awful  and  terrible  thought: 
though  so  severed  on  earth,  his  child  and  he,  yet 
before  the  bar  of  judgment  they  would  one  day  be 
brought  together,  and  then  how  should  it  stand  with 
her  soul? 

Naomi  knew  nothing  of  God,  having  no  way  of 
speech  with  man.  Would  God  condemn  her  for  that, 
and  cast  her  out  for  ever?  No,  no,  no!  God  would 
not  ask  her  for  good  works  in  the  land  of  silence, 
and  for  labour  in  the  land  of  night.  She  had  no  eyes 
to  see  God's  beautiful  world,  and  no  ears  to  hear  His 
holy  word.  God  had  created  her  so,  and  He  would 
not  destroy  what  He  had  made.  Far  rather  would 
He  look  with  love  and  pity  on  His  little  one,  so  long 
and  sorely  tried  on  earth,  and  send  her  at  last  to 
be  a  blessed  saint  in  heaven. 

Israel  tried  to  comfort  himself  so,  but  the  effort 
was  vain.  He  was  a  Jew  to  the  inmost  fibre  of  his 
being,  and  he  answered  himself  out  of  his  own  mouth 
that  it  was  his  own  sinful  wish,  and  not  God's  will, 
that  had  sent  Naomi  into  the  world  as  she  was. 
Then,  on  the  day  of  the  great  account,  how  should  he 
answer  to  her  for  her  soul? 

Visions  stood  up  before  him  of  endless  retribution 
for  the  soul  that  knew  not  God.  These  were  the  most 
awful  terrors  of  his  sleepless  nights,  but  at  length 
peace  came  to  him,  for  he  saw  his  path  of  duty.  It 
was  hie  duty  to  Naomi  thai  he  should  tell  her  of  God 
and  reveal  the  word  of  the  Lord  to  her!    What  mat- 


THE  SPIRIT-MAID.  53 

ter  if  she  could  not  hear?  Though  she  had  senses 
as  the  sands  of  the  seashore,  yet  in  the  way  of  light 
the  Lord  alone  could  lead  her.  What  matter  though 
she  could  not  see?  The  soul  was  the  eye  that  saw 
God,  and  with  bodily  eyes  had  no  man  seen  Him. 

So  every  day  thereafter  at  sunset  Israel  took 
JSlaomi  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  an  upper  room, 
the  same  wherein  her  mother  died,  and,  fetching  from 
a  cupboard  of  the  wall  the  Book  of  the  Law,  he  read 
to  her  of  the  commandments  of  the  Lord  by  Moses, 
and  of  the  Prophets,  and  of  the  Kings.  And  while 
he  read  Naomi  sat  in  silence  at  his  feet,  with  his  one 
free  hand  in  both  of  her  hands,  clasped  close  against 
her  cheek. 

What  the  little  maid  in  her  darkness  thought  of 
this  custom,  what  mystery  it  was  to  her  and  where- 
fore, only  the  eye  that  looks  into  darkness  could  see; 
but  it  was  so  at  length  that  as  soon  as  the  sun  had 
set — for  she  knew  when  the  sun  was  gone — Naomi 
herself  would  take  her  father  by  the  hand,  and  lead 
him  to  the  upper  room,  and  fetch  the  book  to  his 
knees. 

And  sometimes,  as  Israel  read,  an  evil  spirit  would 
seem  to  come  to  him,  and  make  a  mock  at  him,  and 
say,  "  The  child  is  deaf  and  hears  not — go  read  your 
book  in  the  tombs!  "  But  he  only  hardened  his  neck 
and  laughed  proudly.  And,  again,  sometimes  the 
evil  spirit  seemed  to  say,  "Why  waste  yourself  in 
this  misspent  desire?  The  child  is  buried  while  she 
is  still  alive,  and  who  shall  roll  away  the  stone?" 
But  Israel  only  answered,  "  It  is  for  the  Lord  to  do 
miracles,  and  the  Lord  is  mighty." 

So,  great  in  his  faith,  Israel  read  to  Naomi  night 
after  night,  and  when  his  spirit  was  sore  of  many 


64  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

taunts  in  the  day  his  voice  would  be  hoarse,  and 
he  would  read  the  law  which  says,  "  Thou  shalt  not 
curse  the  deaf,  nor  put  a  stumbling-block  before  the 
blind.*'  But  when  his  heart  was  at  peace  his  voice 
would  be  soft,  and  he  would  read  of  the  child  Samuel 
sanctified  to  the  Lord  in  the  temple,  and  how  the 
Lord  called  him  and  he  answered — 

"  And  it  came  to  pass  at  that  time,  when  Eli  was 
laid  down  in  his  place,  and  his  eyes  began  to  wax 
dim,  that  he  could  not  see;  and  ere  the  lamp  of  God 
went  out  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  where  the  Ark 
of  God  was,  and  Samuel  was  laid  down  to  sleep,  that 
the  Lord  called  Samuel,  and  he  answered,  Here  am 
I.  And  he  ran  unto  Eli  and  said.  Here  am  I,  for 
thou  calledst  me.  And  he  said,  I  called  not;  lie 
down  again.  And  he  went  and  lay  down.  And  the 
Lord  called  yet  again,  Samuel.  And  Samuel  rose 
and  went  to  Eli  and  said,  Here  am  I,  for  thou  didst 
call  me.  And  he  answered,  I  called  not,  my  son; 
lie  down  again.  Now  Samuel  did  not  yet  know  the 
Lord,  neither  was  the  word  of  the  Lord  yet  revealed 
to  him." 

And,  having  finished  bis  reading,  Israel  would  close 
the  book,  and  sing  out  of  the  Psalms  of  David  the 
psalm  which  says.  "  Tt  is  good  for  me  that  I  have 
been  in  trouble,  that  I  may  learn  Thy  statutes." 

Thus,  night  after  night,  when  the  sun  was  gone 
down,  did  Israel  road  of  the  law  and  sing  of  the 
Psalms  to  Naomi,  his  daughter,  who  was  both  blind 
and  deaf.  And  though  Xaomi  heard  not,  and  neither 
did  sh<-  Bee,  yet  in  their  silent  hour  together  there 
was  another  in  their  chamber  always  with  them — 
there  was  a  third,  for  there  was  God. 


CHAPTER    VII. 


THE   ANGEL   IN   ISRAEL'S   HOUSE. 


"When  Israel  had  been  some  twenty  years  at 
Tetuan,  Naomi  being  then  fourteen  years  of  age, 
Ben  Aboo,  the  Basha,  married,  a  Christian  wife.  The 
woman's  name  was  Katrina.  She  was  a  Spaniard 
by  birth,  and  had  first  come  to  Morocco  at  the  tail 
of  a  Spanish  embassy,  which  travelled  through 
Tetuan  from  Ceuta  to  the  Sultan  at  Fez.  What  her 
belongings  were,  and  what  her  antecedents  had 
been,  no  one  appeared  to  know,  nor  did  Ben  Aboo 
himself  seem  to  care.  She  answered  all  his  present 
needs  in  her  own  person,  which  was  ample  in  its  pro- 
portions and  abundant  in  its  charms. 

In  marrying  Ben  Aboo,  the  wily  Katrina  imposed 
two  conditions.  The  first  was,  that  he  should  put 
away  the  full  Mohammedan  complement  of  four 
Moorish  wives,  whom  he  had  married  already,  as 
well  as  the  many  concubines  that  he  had  annexed 
in  his  way  through  life,  and  now  kept  lodged  in  one 
unquiet  nest  in  the  women's  hidden  quarter  of  the 
Palace.  The  second  condition  was.  that  she  herself 
should  never  be  banished  to  such  seclusion,  but,  like 
the  wife  of  any  European  governor,  should  openly 
share  the  state  of  her  husband. 

Ben  Aboo  was  in  no  mood  to  stand  on  the  rights 
of  a  strict  Mohammedan,  and  he  accepted  both  of 

65 


66  THE   SCAPEGOAT. 

her  conditions.  The  first  he  never  meant  to  abide 
by,  but  the  second  she  took  care  he  should  observe, 
and,  as  a  prelude  to  that  public  life  which  she  in- 
tended to  live  by  his  side,  she  insisted  on  a  public 
marriage. 

They  were  married  according  to  the  rites  of  the 
Catholic  Church  by  a  Franciscan  friar  settled  at 
Tangier,  and  the  marriage  festival  lasted  six  days. 
Great  was  the  display,  and  lavish  the  outlay.  Every 
morning  the  cannon  of  the  fort  fired  a  round  of 
shot  from  the  hill,  every  evening  the  tribesmen  from 
the  mountains  went  through  their  feats  of  powder- 
play  in  the  market-place,  and  every  night  a  body  of 
Ai'ssawa  from  Mequinez  yelled  and  shrieked  in  the 
enclosure  called  the  M-salla,  near  the  Bab  er-Re- 
moosh.  Feasts  were  spread  in  the  Kasbah,  and  relays 
of  guests  from  among  the  chief  men  of  the  town  were 
invited  daily  to  partake  of  them. 

No  man  dared  to  refuse  his  invitation,  or  to  neg- 
lect the  tribute  of  a  present,  though  the  Moors  well 
knew  that  they  were  lending  the  light  of  their  coun- 
tenance to  a  brazen  outrage  on  their  faith,  and 
though  it  galled  the  hearts  of  the  Jews  to  make 
merry  at  the  marriage  of  a  Christian  and  a  Muslim 
— no  man  except  Israel,  and  he  excused  himself 
with  what  grace  he  could,  being  in  no  mood  for  re- 
joicing, but  sick  with  sorrow  of  the  heart. 

The  Spanish  woman  was  not  to  be  gainsaid.  She 
had  taken  her  measure  of  the  man,  and  had  resolved 
that  a  servant  so  powerful  as  Israel  should  pay  her 
court  and  tribute  before  all.  Therefore  she  caused 
liim  to  be  invited  again;  but  Israel  had  taken  his 
measure  of  the  woman,  and  with  some  lack  of 
courtesy  he  excused  himself  afresh. 


THE  ANGEL  IN  ISRAEL'S   HOUSE.  67 

Katrina  was  not  yet  done.  She  was  a  creature 
of  resource,  and  having  heard  of  Naomi,  with 
strange  stories  concerning  her,  she  devised  a  chil- 
dren's feast  for  the  last  day  of  the  marriage  festival, 
and  caused  Ben  Aboo  to  write  to  Israel  a  formal 
letter,  beginning,  "  To  our  well-beloved  the  excel- 
lent Israel  ben  Oliel,  Praise  to  the  one  God,"  and 
setting  forth  that  on  the  morrow,  when  the  "  Sun 
of  the  world  "  should  "  place  his  foot  in  the  stirrup 
of  speed,"  and  gallop  "  from  the  kingdom  of  shades," 
the  Governor  would  "  hold  a  gathering  of  delight " 
for  all  the  children  of  Tetuan,  and  he,  Israel,  was 
besought  to  "  lighten  it  with  the  rays  of  his  face, 
rivalled  only  by  the  sun,"  and  to  bring  with  him  his 
little  daughter  Naomi,  whose  arrival,  "  similar  to  a 
spring  breeze,"  should  "  dissipate  the  dark  night 
of  solitude  and  isolation."  This  despatch,  written 
in  the  common  cant  of  the  people,  concluded  with 
quotations  from  the  Prophet  on  brotherly  love,  and 
a  significant  and  more  sincere  assurance  that  the 
Basha  would  not  admit  of  excuses  "  of  the  thickness 
of  a  hair." 

When  Israel  received  the  missive,  his  anger  was 
hot  and  furious.  He  leapt  to  the  conclusion  that, 
in  demanding  the  presence  of  Naomi,  the  Spanish 
woman,  who  must  know  of  the  child's  condition,  de- 
sired only  to  make  a  show  of  it.  But,  after  a  time, 
he  put  that  thought  from  him  as  uncharitable  and 
unwarranted,  and  resolved  to  obey  the  summons. 

And,  indeed,  if  he  had  felt  any  further  diffidence 
the  sight  of  Naomi's  own  eagerness  must  have  driven 
it  away.  The  little  maid  seemed  to  know  that  some- 
thing unusual  was  going  on.  Troops  of  poor  villagers 
from  every  miserable  quarter  of  the  bashalic  came 
6 


68  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

into  the  town  each  day,  beating  drums,  firing  long 
guns,  driving  their  presents  before  them — bullocks, 
cows,  and  sheep — and  trying  to  make  believe  that 
they  rejoiced  and  were  glad.  Naomi  appeared  to  be 
conscious  of  many  tents  pitched  in  the  market-place, 
of  denser  crowds  in  the  streets,  and  of  much  bustle 
evervwhere. 

Also  she  seemed  to  catch  the  contagion  of  little 
Ali's  excitement.  The  children  of  all  the  schools 
of  the  town,  both  Jewish  and  Moorish,  had  been  sum- 
moned through  their  Talebs  to  the  festival;  there  was 
to  be  dancing  and  singing  and  playing  on  musical  in- 
struments; and  Ali  himself,  who  had  lately  practised 
the  kanoon — the  lute,  the  harp — under  his  teacher, 
was  to  show  his  skill  before  the  Governor.  There- 
fore, great  was  the  little  black  man's  excitement, 
and,  in  the  fever  of  it,  he  would  talk  to  every  one 
of  the  event  forthcoming — to  Fatimah,  to  Habeebah, 
and  often  to  Naomi  also,  until  the  memory  of  her 
infirmity  would  come  to  him,  or  perhaps  the  derisive 
laugh  of  his  schoolfellows  would  stop  him,  and  then, 
thinking  they  were  laughing  at  the  girl,  he  would 
fall  on  them  like  a  fury,  and  they  would  scamper 
away. 

When  the  great  day  came,  Ali  went  off  to  the 
Kasbah  with  his  school  and  Taleb,  in  the  long  pro- 
cession of  many  schools  and  many  Talebs.  Every 
child  carried  a  present  for  the  rich  Basha;  now  a 
boy  with  a  goat,  then  a  girl  with  a  lamb,  again  a 
poor  tattered  mite  with  a  hen,  all  cuddling  them 
close  like  pets  they  must  part  with,  yet  all  looking 
radiantly  happy  in  their  sweet  innocency,  which  had 
no  alloy  of  pain  from  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil. 


THE  ANGEL  IN  ISRAEL'S  HOUSE.  69 

Israel  took  Naomi  by  the  hand,  but  no  present 
with  either  of  them,  and  followed  the  children,  going 
past  the  booths,  the  blind  beggars,  the  lepers,  and 
the  shrieking  Arabs  that  lay  thick  about  the  gate, 
through  the  iron-clamped  door,  and  into  the  quad- 
rangle, where  groups  of  women  stood  together  closely 
covered  in  their  blankets — the  mothers  and  sisters 
of  the  children,  permitted  to  see  their  little  ones 
pass  into  the  Kasbah,  but  allowed  to  go  no  farther — 
then  down  the  crooked  passage,  past  the  tiny  mosque, 
like  a  closet,  and  the  bath,  like  a  dungeon,  and  finally 
into  the  pillared  patio,  paved  and  walled  with  tiles. 

This  was  the  place  of  the  festival,  and  it  was 
filled  already  with,  a  great  company  of  children, 
their  fathers  and  their  teachers.  Moors,  Arabs,  Ber- 
bers, and  Jews,  clad  in  their  various  costumes  of 
white  and  blue  and  black  and  red — they  were  a 
gorgeous,  a  voluptuous,  and,  perhaps,  a  beautiful 
spectacle  in  the  morning  sunlight. 

As  Israel  entered,  with  Naomi  by  the  hand,  he 
was  conscious  that  every  eye  was  on  them,  and  as 
they  passed  through  the  way  that  was  made  for 
them,  he  heard  the  whispered  exclamations  of  the 
people.  "Shoof!"  muttered  a  Moor.  "See!" 
"  It's  himself,"  said  a  Jew.  "  And  the  child,"  said 
another  Jew.  "  Allah  has  smitten  her,"  said  an 
Arab.  "Blind  and  dumb  and  deaf,"  said  another 
Moor.  "  God  be  gracious  to  my  father!  "  said  an- 
other Arab. 

Musicians  were  playing  in  the  gallery  that  ran 
round  the  court,  and  from  the  flat  roof  above  it  the 
women  of  the  Governor's  hareem,  not  yet  dispersed, 
his  four  lawful  Mohammedan  wives,  and  many  con- 
cubines, were  gazing  furtively  down   from   behind 


70  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

their  haiks.  There  was  a  fountain  in  the  middle 
of  the  patio,  and  at  the  farther  end  of  it,  within  an 
alcove  that  opened  out  of  a  horseshoe  arch,  heneath 
ceilings  hung  with  stalactites,  against  walls  covered 
with  silken  haities,  and  on  Rabat  rugs  of  many  col- 
ours, sat  Ben  Aboo  and  his  Christian  bride. 

It  was  there  that  Israel  saw  the  Spaniard  for  the 
first  time,  and  at  the  instant  of  recognition  he  shiv- 
ered as  with  cold.  She  was  a  handsome  woman,  but 
plainly  a  heartless  one — selfish,  vain,  and  vulgar. 

Ben  Aboo  hailed  Israel  with  welcomes  and  peace- 
blessings,  and  Katrina  drew  Naomi  to  her  side. 

"  So  this  is  the  little  maid  of  whom  wonderful 
rumours  are  so  rife  ?  "  said  Katrina. 

Israel  bent  his  head  and  shuddered  at  seeing  the 
child  at  the  woman's  feet. 

"  The  darling  is  as  fair  as  an  angel,"  said  Katrina, 
and  she  kissed  Naomi. 

The  kiss  seemed  to  Israel  to  smite  his  own  cheeks 
like  a  blow. 

Then  the  performances  of  the  children  began, 
and  truly  they  made  a  pretty  and  affecting  sight; 
the  white  walls,  the  deep  blue  sky,  the  black  shad- 
ows of  the  gallery,  the  bright  sunlight,  the  grown 
people  massed  around  the  patio,  and  these  sweet  little 
faces  coming  and  going  in  the  middle  of  it.  First, 
a  line  of  Moorish  girls  in  their  embroidered  hazzams 
dancing  after  their  native  fashion,  bending  and  ris- 
ing, twisting  and  turning,  but  keeping  their  feet  in 
the  same  place  constantly.  Then,  a  line  of  Jewish 
girls  in  their  kilted  skirts  dancing  after  the  Jewish 
manner,  tripping  on  their  slippered  toes,  whirling 
and  turning  around  with  rapid  motions,  and  playing 
timbrels  and  tambourines  held  high  above  their  heads 


THE  ANGEL  IN  ISRAEL'S  HOUSE.  fa 

by  their  shapely  arms  and  hands.  Then  passages 
of  the  Koran  chanted  by  a  group  of  Moorish  boys 
in  their  jellabs,  purple  and  chocolate  and  white, 
peaked  above  their  red  tarbooshes.  Then  a  psalm 
by  a  company  of  Jewish  boys  in  their  black  skull- 
caps— a  brave  old  song  of  Zion  sung  by  silvery  young 
voices  in  an  alien  land.  Finally,  little  black  Ali,  led 
out  by  his  teacher,  with  his  diminutive  Moorish  harp 
in  his  hands,  showing  no  fear  at  all,  but  only  a 
negro  boy's  shy  looks  of  pleasure — his  head  aside, 
his  eyes  gleaming,  his  white  teeth  glinting,  and  his 
face  aglow. 

Now  down  to  this  moment  Naomi,  at  the  feet  of 
the  woman,  had  been  agitated  and  restless,  some- 
times rising,  then  sinking  back,  sometimes  playing 
with  her  nervous  fingers,  and  then  pushing  off  her 
slippers.  It  was  as  though  she  was  conscious  of  the 
fine  show  which  was  going  forward,  and  knew  that 
they  were  children  who  were  making  it.  Perhaps 
the  breath  of  the  little  ones  beat  her  on  the  level 
of  her  cheeks,  or  perhaps  the  light  air  made  by  the 
sweep  of  their  garments  was  wafted  to  her  sensi- 
tive body.  Whatsoever  the  sense  whereby  the  knowl- 
edge came  to  her,  clearly  it  was  there  in  her 
flushed  and  twitching  face,  which  was  full  of  that 
old  hunger  for  child-company  which  Israel  knew 
too  well. 

But  when  little  Ali  was  brought  out  and  he  began 
to  play  on  his  kanoon,  his  harp,  it  was  impossible  to 
repress  Naomi's  excitement.  The  girl  leaped  up 
from  her  place  at  the  woman's  feet,  and  with  the 
utmost  rapidity  of  motion  she  passed  like  a  gleam 
of  light  across  the  patio  to  the  boy's  side.  And, 
being  there,  she  touched  the  harp  as  he  played  it, 


72  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  then  a  low  cry  came  from  her  lips.  Again  she 
touched  it,  and  her  eyes,  though  blind,  seemed  for 
an  instant  to  flame  like  fire.  Then,  with  both  her 
hands  she  clung  to  it,  and  with  her  lips  and  her 
tongue  she  kissed  it,  while  her  whole  body  quiv- 
ered like  a  reed  in  the  wind. 

Israel  saw  what  she  did,  and  his  very  soul  trem- 
bled at  the  sight  with  wild  thoughts  that  did  not 
dare  to  take  the  name  of  hope.  As  well  as  he  could 
in  the  confusion  of  his  own  senses  he  stepped  for- 
ward to  draw  the  little  maiden  back,  but  the  wife 
of  the  Governor  called  on  him  to  leave  her. 

"  Leave  her!  "  she  cried.  "  Let  us  see  what  the 
child  will  do!  " 

At  that  moment  Ali's  playing  came  to  an  end, 
and  the  boy  let  the  harp  pass  to  Naomi's  clinging 
fingers,  and  then,  half  sitting,  half  kneeling  on  the 
ground  beside  it,  the  girl  took  it  to  herself.  She 
caressed  it,  she  patted  it  with  her  hand,  she  touched 
its  strings,  and  then  a  faint  smile  crossed  her  rosy 
lips.  She  laid  her  cheek  against  it  and  touched  its 
strings  again,  and  then  she  laughed  aloud.  She 
flung  off  her  slippers  and  the  garment  that  covered 
her  beautiful  arms,  and  laid  her  pure  flesh  against 
the  harp  wheresoever  her  flesh  might  cling,  and 
touched  its  strings  once  more,  and  then  her  very 
heart  seemed  to  laugh  with  delight. 

Now,  what  is  to  follow  will  seem  to  be  no  better 
than  a  superstitious  saying,  but  true  it  is,  neverthe- 
less,  and  simple  sooth  for  all  it  sounds  so  strange, 
that  though  Naomi  was  deaf  as  the  grave,  and  had 
never  yet  heard  music  and  1  hough  she  was  un- 
taught and  knew  nothing  of  the  notes  of  a  harp 
to  strike  them,  yet  she  swept  the  strings  to  strange 


THE  ANGEL  IN  ISRAEL'S  HOUSE.  73 

sounds  such  as  no  man  had  ever  listened  to  before 
and  none  could  follow. 

It  was  not  music  that  the  little  maiden  made  to 
her  ear,  but  only  motion  to  her  body,  and  just  as 
the  deaf  who  are  deaf  alone  are  sometimes  found  to 
take  pleasure  in  all  forms  of  percussion,  and  to  de- 
rive from  them  some  of  the  sensations  of  sound — 
the  trembling  of  the  air  after  thunder,  the  quiver- 
ing of  the  earth  after  cannon,  and  the  quaking  of 
vast  walls  after  the  ringing  of  mighty  bells — so  Na- 
omi, who  was  blind  as  well  and  had  no  sense  save 
touch,  found  in  her  fingers,  which  had  gathered  up 
the  force  of  all  the  other  senses,  the  power  to  repro- 
duce on  this  instrument  of  music  the  movement  of 
things  that  moved  about  her — the  patter  of  the 
leaves  of  the  fig-tree  in  the  patio  of  her  home,  the 
swirl  of  the  great  winds  on  the  hill-top,  the  plash 
of  rain  on  her  face,  and  the  rippling  of  the  levanter 
in  her  hair. 

This  was  all  the  witchery  of  Naomi's  playing,  yet, 
because  every  emotion  in  Nature  had  its  harmony, 
so  there  was  harmony  of  some  wild  sort  in  the  music 
that  was  struck  by  the  girl's  fingers  out  of  the  strings 
of  the  harp.  But,  more  than  her  music,  which  was, 
perhaps,  only  a  rhapsody  of  sound,  was  the  frenzy  of 
the  girl  herself  as  she  made  it.  She  lifted  her  head 
like  a  bird,  her  throat  swelled,  her  bosom  heaved, 
and,  as  she  played,  she  laughed  again  and  again. 

There  was  something  fascinating  and  magical 
in  the  spectacle  of  the  beautiful  fair  face  aglow  with 
joy,  the  rounded  limbs  (visible  through  the  robes) 
clinging  to  the  sides  of  the  harp,  and  the  delicate 
white  fingers  flying  across  the  strings.  There  was 
something  gruesome  and  awful,  as  well,  for  the  face 


74  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

of  the  girl  was  blind,  and  her  ears  heard  nothing 
of  the  sounds  that  her  fingers  were  making. 

Every  eye  was  on  her,  and  in  the  wide  circle 
around  every  mouth  was  agape.  And  when  those 
who  looked  on  and  listened  had  recovered  from  their 
first  surprise,  very  strange  and  various  were  the 
whispered  words  they  passed  between  them.  "  Where 
has  she  learnt  it?  "  asked  a  Moor.  "  From  her  mas- 
ter himself,"  muttered  a  Jew.  "Who  is  it?"  asked 
the  Moor.  "  Beelzebub,"  growled  the  Jew.  "  God 
pity  me,  the  evil  eye  is  on  her,"  said  an  Arab.  "  God 
will  show,"  said  a  Shereef  from  Wazan.  "They 
say  her  mother  was  a  childless  woman,  and  offered 
petitions  for  Hannah's  blessing  at  the  tomb  of  Rabbi 
Amran."  "No,"  said  the  Arab;  "she  sent  her 
girdle."  "  Anyhow,  the  child  is  a  saint,"  whispered 
the  Shereef.    "  No,  but  a  devil,"  snorted  the  Jew. 

"  Brava,  brava,  brava!  "  cried  the  new  wife  of 
Ben  Aboo,  and  she  cheered  and  laughed  as  the  girl 
played.  "What  did  I  tell  you?"  she  said,  looking 
towards  her  husband.  "  The  child  is  not  deaf,  no, 
nor  blind  either.  Oh,  it's  a  brave  imposture!  Brava, 
brava!  " 

Still  the  little  maiden  played,  but  now  her  brow 
was  clouded,  her  head  dropped,  her  eyelashes  were 
downcast,  and  she  hung  over  the  harp  and  sighed 
audibly. 

"  Good  again!  "  cried  the  woman.  "  Very  good! ,: 
and  she  clapped  her  hands,  whereupon  the  Arabs 
and  the  Moors,  forgetting  their  dread,  felt  con- 
strained to  follow  her  example,  and  they  cheered  in 
their  wilder  way.  but  the  Jews  continued  to  mutter, 
'•  Beelzebub,  Beelzebub!" 

Israel  saw  it  all,  and  at  first,  amid  the  commo- 


THE  ANGEL  IN  ISRAEL'S  HOUSE.  75 

tion  of  his  mind  and  the  confusion  of  his  senses,  his 
heart  melted  at  sight  of  what  Naomi  did.  Had  God 
opened  a  gateway  to  her  soul?  Were  the  poor  wings 
of  her  spirit  to  spread  themselves  out  at  last?  Was 
this,  then,  the  way  of  speech  that  Heaven  had  given 
her?  But  hardly  had  Israel  overflowed  with  the 
tenderness  of  such  thoughts  when  the  bleating  and 
harking  of  the  faces  about  him  awakened  his  anger. 
Then,  like  blows  on  his  brain,  came  the  cries  of  the 
wife  of  the  Governor,  who  cheered  this  awakenimr 
of  the  girl's  soul  as  it  were  no  better  than  a  vulgar 
show;  and  at  that  Israel's  wrath  rose  to  his  throat. 

"  Brava,  brava!  "  cried  the  woman  again;  and, 
turning  to  Israel,  she  said,  "You  shall  leave  the 
child  with  me.    I  must  have  her  with  me  always." 

Israel's  throat  seemed  to  choke  him  at  that  word. 
He  looked  at  Katrina,  and  saw  that  she  was  a  woman 
lustful  of  breath  and  vain  of  heart,  who  had  mar- 
ried Ben  Aboo  because  he  was  rich.  Then  he  looked 
at  Naomi,  and  remembered  that  her  heart  was  clear 
as  the  water,  and  sweet  as  the  morning,  and  pure 
as  the  snow. 

And  at  that  moment  the  wife  of  the  Governor 
cheered  again,  and  again  the  people  echoed  her,  and 
even  the  women  on  the  housetops  made  bold  to  take 
up  her  cry  with  their  cooing  ululation.  The  play- 
ing had  ceased,  the  spell  had  dissolved,  Naomi's  fin- 
gers had  fallen  from  the  harp,  her  head  had  dropped 
into  her  breast,  and  with  a  sigh  she  had  sunk  for- 
ward on  to  her  face. 

"  Take  her  in! "  said  the  wife  of  Ben  Aboo,  and 
two  Arab  soldiers  stepped  up  to  where  the  little 
maiden  lay.  But  before  they  had  touched  her  Israel 
strode  out  with  swollen  lips  and  distended  nostrils. 


76  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  Stop!  "  he  cried. 

The  Arabs  hesitated,  and  looked  towards  their 
master. 

"  Do  as  you  are  bidden — take  her  in!  "  said  Ben 
Aboo. 

"  Stop!  "  cried  Israel  again,  in  a  loud  voice  that 
rang  through  the  court.  Then,  parting  the  Arabs 
with  a  sweep  of  his  arms,  he  picked  up  the  uncon- 
scious maiden,  and  faced  about  on  the  new  wife  of 
Ben  Aboo. 

"  Madam,"  he  cried,  "  I,  Israel  ben  Oliel,  may- 
belong  to  the  Governor,  but  my  child  belongs  to 
me." 

So  saying,  he  passed  out  of  the  court,  carrying 
the  girl  in  his  arms,  and  in  the  dead  silence  and 
blank  stupor  of  that  moment  none  seemed  to  know 
what  he  had  done  until  he  was  gone. 

Israel  went  home  in  his  anger;  but,  nevertheless, 
out  of  this  event  he  found  courage  in  his  heart  to 
begin  his  task  again.  Let  his  enemies  bleat  and 
bark  "  Beelzebub,"  yet  the  child  was  an  angel, 
1  hough  suffering  for  his  sin,  and  her  soul  was  with 
God.  She  was  a  spirit,  and  the  songs  she  had  played 
were  the  airs  of  paradise.  But,  comforting  himself 
so,  Israel  remembered  the  vision  of  Ruth,  wherein 
Naomi  had  recovered  her  powers.  He  had  put  it 
from  him  hitherto  as  the  delirium  of  death,  but 
would  the  Lord  yet  bring  it  to  pass?  Would  God 
in  His  mercy  some  day  take  the  angel  out  of  his 
house,  though  so  strangely  gifted,  so  radiant  and 
beautiful  and  joyful,  and  give  him  instead  for  the 
hunger  of  his  heart  as  a  man  this  sweet  human  child, 
his  little  fair-haired  Naomi,  though  helpless  and 
simple  and  weak? 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE   VISION  OF   THE    SCAPEGOAT. 

Iskael's  instinct  had  been  sure:  the  coming  of 
Katrina  proved  to  be  the  beginning  of  his  end.  He 
kept  his  office,  but  he  lost  his  power.  No  longer  did 
he  work  his  own  will  in  Tetuan;  he  was  required 
to  work  the  will  of  the  woman.  Katrina's  will  was 
an  evil  one.  and  Israel  got  the  blame  of  it,  for  still 
he  seemed  to  stand  in  all  matters  of  tribute  and  tax- 
ation between  the  people  and  the  Governor.  It 
galled  him  to  take  the  woman's  wages,  but  it  vexed 
him  yet  more  to  do  her  work.  Her  work  was  to 
burden  the  people  with  taxes  beyond  all  their  power 
of  paying;  her  wages  was  to  be  hated  as  the  bane 
of  the  bashalic,  to  be  clamoured  against  as  the  tyrant 
of  Tetuan,  and  to  be  ridiculed  by  the  very  offal  of 
the  streets. 

One  day  a  gang  of  dirty  Arabs  in  the  market- 
place dressed  up  a  blind  beggar  in  clothes  such  as 
Israel  wore,  and  sent  him  abroad  through  the  town 
to  beg  as  one  that  was  destitute  and  in  a  miserable 
condition.  But  nothing  seemed  to  move  Israel  to 
pity.  Men  were  cast  into  prison  for  no  reason  save 
that  they  were  rich,  and  the  relations  of  such  as 
were  there  already  were  allowed  to  redeem  them  for 
money,  so  that  no  felon  suffered  punishment  except 
such  as  could  pay  nothing.     People  took  fright  and 

77 


78  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

fled  to  other  cities.  Israel's  name  became  a  curse 
and  a  reproach  throughout  Barbary. 

Yet  all  this  time  the  man's  soul  was  yearning 
with  pity  for  the  people.  Since  the  death  of  Ruth 
his  heart  had  grown  merciful.  The  care  of  the  child 
had  softened  him.  It  had  brought  him  to  look  on 
other  children  with  tenderness,  and  looking  tenderly 
on  other  children  had  led  him  to  think  of  other 
fathers  with  compassion.  Young  or  old,  powerful 
or  weak,  mighty  or  mean,  they  were  all  as  little 
children — helpless  children  who  would  sleep  to- 
gether in  the  same  bed  soon. 

Thinking  so,  Israel  would  have  undone  the  evil 
work  of  earlier  years;  but  that  was  impossible  now. 
Many  of  them  that  had  suffered  were  dead;  some 
that  had  been  cast  into  prison  had  got  their  last 
and  long  discharge.  At  least  Israel  would,  have  re- 
laxed the  rigour  whereby  his  master  ruled,  but  that 
was  impossible  also.  Katrina  had  come,  and  she 
was  a  vain  woman  and  a  lover  of  all  luxury,  and  she 
commanded  Israel  to  tax  the  people  afresh.  He 
obeyed  her  through  three  bad  years;  but  many  a 
time  his  heart  reproached  him  that  he  dealt  cor- 
ruptly by  the  poor  people,  and  when  he  saw  them 
borrowing  money  for  the  Governor's  tributes  on 
their  lands  and  houses,  and  when  he  stood  by  while 
they  and  their  sum  were  casl  into  prison  for  the 
bonds  which  they  could  not  pay  to  the  usurers 
Ahraham  or  Judah  or  Reuben,  then  his  soul  cried 
out  against  him  that  he  ate  the  bread  of  such  a 
mistress. 

But  out  of  the  eater  came  forth  meat,  and  out  of 
the  strong  came  forth  sweetness,  and  out  of  this 
earning  of  the  Spanish  wife  of  Ben  Aboo  came  de- 


THE  VISION  OF  THE  SCAPEGOAT.  79 

liverance  for  Israel  from  the  torment  of  his  false 
position. 

There  was  an  aged  and  pious  Moor  in  Tetuan, 
called  Abd  Allah,  who  was  rumoured  to  have  made 
savings  from  his  business  as  a  gunsmith.  Going  to 
mosque  one  evening,  with  fifteen  dollars  in  his  waist- 
band, he  unstrapped  his  belt  and  laid  it  on  the  edge 
of  the  fountain  while  he  washed  his  feet  before  en- 
tering, for  his  back  was  no  longer  supple.  Then  a 
younger  Moor,  coming  to  pray  at  the  same  time, 
saw  the  dollars,  and  snatched  them  up  and  ran. 
Abd  Allah  could  not  follow  the  thief,  so  he  went  to 
the  Kasbah  and  told  his  story  to  the  Governor. 

Just  at  that  time  Ben  Aboo  had  the  Kaid  of  Fez 
on  a  visit  to  him.  "  Ask  him  how  much  more  he 
has  got,"  whispered  the  brother  Kaid  to  Ben  Aboo. 

Abd  Allah  answered  that  he  did  not  know. 

"  I'll  give  you  two  hundred  dollars  for  the  chance 
of  all  he  has,"  the  Kaid  whispered  again. 

"  Five  bees  are  better  than  a  pannier  of  flies — 
done!  "  said  Ben  Aboo. 

So  Abd  Allah  was  sold  like  a  sheep  and  carried 
to  Fez,  and  there  cast  into  prison  on  a  penalty  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  imposed  upon  him  on 
the  pretence  of  a  false  accusation. 

Israel  sat  by  the  Governor  that  day  at  the  gate 
of  the  hall  of  justice,  and  many  poor  people  of  the 
town  stood  huddled  together  in  the  court  outside 
while  the  evil  work  was  done.  Xo  one  heard  the 
Kaid  of  Fez  when  he  whispered  to  Ben  Aboo,  but 
every  one  saw  when  Israel  drew  the  warrant  that 
consigned  the  gunsmith  to  prison,  and  when  he  sealed 
it  with  the  Governor's  seal. 

Abd  Allah  had  made  no  savings,  and,  being  too 


80  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

old  for  work,  he  had  lived  on  the  earnings  of  his 
son.  The  son's  name  was  Absalam  (Abd  es-Salam), 
and  he  had  a  wife  whom  he  loved  very  tenderly,  and 
one  child,  a  boy  of  six  years  of  age.  Absalam  fol- 
lowed his  father  to  Fez,  and  visited  him  in  prison. 
The  old  man  had  been  ordered  a  hundred  lashes, 
and  the  flesh  was  hanging  from  his  limbs.  Absalam 
was  great  of  heart,  and,  in  pity  of  his  father's  mis- 
erable condition,  he  went  to  the  Governor  and  begged 
that  the  old  man  might  be  liberated,  and  that  he 
might  be  imprisoned  instead.  His  petition  was 
heard.  Abd  Allah  was  set  free,  Absalam  was  cast 
into  prison,  and  the  penalty  was  raised  from  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  three  hundred. 

Israel  heard  of  what  had  happened,  and  he 
hastened  to  Ben  Aboo  in  great  agitation,  intending 
to  say,  "  Pay  back  this  man's  ransom,  in  God's  name, 
and  his  children  and  his  children's  children  will  live 
to  bless  you."  But  when  he  got  to  the  Kasbah, 
Katrina  was  sitting  with  her  husband,  and  at  sight 
of  the  woman's  face  Israel's  tongue  was  frozen. 

Absalam  had  been  the  favourite  of  his  neigh- 
bours among  all  the  gunsmiths  of  the  market-place, 
and  after  he  had  been  three  months  at  Fez  they 
made  common  cause  of  his  calamities,  sold  their 
goods  at  a  sacrifice,  collected  the  three  hundred  dol- 
lars of  his  fine,  bought  him  out  of  prison,  and  went 
in  a  body  through  the  gate  to  meet  him  upon  his 
return  to  Tetuan.  But  his  wife  had  died  in  the 
meantime  of  fear  and  privation,  and  only  his  aged 
father  and  his  little  son  were  there  to  welcome  him. 

"  Friends,"  he  said  to  his  neighbours  standing 
outside  the  walls,  "  what  is  the  use  of  sowing  if  you 
know  not  who  will  reap?" 


THE  VISION  OF  THE  SCAPEGOAT.  81 

"  No  use,  no  use! "  answered  several  voices. 

"  If  God  gives  you  anything,  this  man  Israel 
takes  it  away,"  said  Absalam. 

"True,  true!  Curse  him!  Curse  his  relations! " 
cried  the  others. 

"  Then  why  go  back  into  Tetuan?"  said  Absalam. 

"  Tangier  is  no  better,"  said  one.  "  Fez  is 
worse,"  said  another.  "  Where  is  there  to  go?  "  said 
a  third. 

"  Into  the  plains,"  said  Absalam — "  into  the 
plains  and  into  the  mountains,  for  they  belong  to 
God  alone." 

That  word  was  like  the  flint  to  the  tinder. 

"  They  who  have  least  are  richest,  and  they  that 
have  nothing  are  best  off  of  all,"  said  Absalam,  and 
his  neighbours  shouted  that  it  was  so. 

"  God  will  clothe  us  as  He  clothes  the  fields," 
said  Absalam,  "  and  feed  our  children  as  He  feeds 
the  birds." 

In  three  days'  time  ten  shops  in  the  market- 
place, on  the  side  of  the  Mosque,  were  sold  up  and 
closed,  and  the  men  who  had  kept  them  were  gone 
away  with  their  wives  and  children  to  live  in  tents 
with  Absalam  on  the  barren  plains  beyond  the  town. 

When  Israel  heard  of  what  had  been  done  he 
secretly  rejoiced;  but  Ben  Aboo  was  in  a  commo- 
tion of  fear,  and  Katrina  was  fierce  with  anger,  for 
the  doctrine  which  Absalam  had  preached  to  his 
neighbours  outside  the  walls  was  not  his  own  doc- 
trine merely,  but  that  of  a  great  man  lately  risen 
among  the  people,  called  Mohammed  of  Mequinez, 
nicknamed  by  his  enemies  Mohammed  the  Third. 

"  This  madness  is  spreading,"  said  Ben  Aboo. 

"  Yes,"  said  Katrina;  "  and  if  all  men  follow 


82  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

where  these  men  lead,  who  will  supply  the  tables 
of  Kaids  and  Sultans?" 

"What  can  I  do  with  them?"  said  Ben  Aboo. 

"  Eat  them  up,"  said  Katrina. 

Ben  Aboo  proceeded  to  put  a  literal  interpreta- 
tion upon  his  wife's  counsel.  With  a  company  of 
cavalry  he  prepared  to  follow  Absalam  and  his  little 
fellowship,  taking  Israel  along  with  him  to  reckon 
their  taxes,  that  he  might  compel  them  to  return  to 
Tetuan.  and  be  town-dwellers  and  house-dwellers, 
and  buy  and  sell  and  pay  tribute  as  before,  or  else 
deliver  themselves  to  prison. 

But  Absalam  and  his  people  had  secret  word 
that  the  Governor  was  coming  after  them,  and  Israel 
with  him.  So  they  rolled  their  tents,  and  fled  to 
the  mountains  that  are  midway  between  Tetuan  and 
the  Beef  country,  and  took  refuge  in  the  gullies  of 
that  rugged  land,  living  in  caves  of  the  rock,  with 
only  the  table-land  of  mountain  behind  them,  and 
nothing  but  a  rugged  precipice  in  front.  This  place 
they  selected  for  its  safety,  intending  to  push  for- 
ward, as  occasion  offered,  to  the  sanctuaries  of  Sha- 
wan,  trusting  rather  to  the  humanity  of  the  wild 
people,  called  the  Shawanis,  than  to  the  mercy  of 
their  late  cruel  masters.  But  the  valley  wherein  they 
had  bidden  is  thick  with  trees,  and  Ben  Aboo  tracked 
them  and  came  up  with  them  before  they  were  aware. 
Then,  sending  soldiers  to  the  mountain  at  the  back 
of  the  eaves,  wit li  instructions  that  they  should  come 
down  to  the  precipice  steadily,  and  kill  none  that 
they  could  take  alive,  Ben  Aboo  himself  drew  up 
at  the  foot  of  it.  and  Israel  with  him  and  there 
railed  on  the  people  to  come  out  and  deliver  them- 
selves to  his  will. 


TIIE  VISION  OF  THE  SCAPEGOAT.  83 

When  the  poor  people  came  from  their  hiding- 
places  and  saw  that  they  were  surrounded,  and  that 
escape  was  not  left  to  them  on  any  side,  they  thought 
their  death  was  sure.  But  without  a  shout  or  a  cry 
they  knelt,  as  with  one  accord,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
precipice,  with  their  backs  to  it,  men  and  women 
and  children,  knee  to  knee  in  a  line,  and  joined 
hands,  and  looked  towards  the  soldiers,  who  were 
coming  steadily  down  on  them.  On  and  on  the  sol- 
diers came,  eye  to  eye  with  the  people,  and  their 
swords  were  drawn. 

Israel  gasped  for  his  breath,  and  waited  to  see  the 
people  cut  in  pieces  at  the  next  instant,  when  sud- 
denly they  began  to  sing  where  they  knelt  at  the 
edge  of  the  precipice,  "  God  is  our  refuge  and  our 
strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble." 

In  another  moment  the  soldiers  had  drawn  up 
as  if  swords  from  heaven  had  fallen  on  them,  and 
Israel  was  crying  out  of  his  dry  throat,  "  Fear  noth- 
ing! Only  deliver  your  bodies  to  the  Governor,  and 
none  shall  harm  you." 

Absalam  rose  up  from  his  knees  and  called  to 
his  father  and  his  son.  And  standing  between  them 
to  be  seen  by  all,  and  first  looking  upon  both  with 
eyes  of  pity,  he  drew  from  the  folds  of  his  selham 
a  long  knife  such  as  the  Reefians  wear,  and  taking 
his  father  by  his  white  hair  he  slew  him  and  cast 
his  body  down  the  rocks.  After  that  he  turned  to- 
wards his  son,  and  the  boy  was  golden-haired  and  his 
face  was  like  the  morning,  and  Israel's  heart  bled  to 
see  him. 

"  Absalam! "  he  cried  in  a  moving  voice;  "  Ab- 
salam, wait,  wait!  " 

But  Absalam  killed  his  son  also,  and  cast  him 
7 


8-±  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

down  after  his  father.  Then,  looking  around  on  his 
people  with  eyes  of  compassion,  as  seeming  to  pity 
them  that  they  must  fall  again  into  the  hands  of 
[srael  and  his  master,  he  stretched  out  his  knife  and 
sheathed  it  in  his  own  hreast,  and  fell  towards  the 
precipice. 

Israel  covered  his  face  and  groaned  in  his  heart, 
and  said,  "  It  is  the  end,  0  Lord  God,  it  is  the  end 
— polluted  wretch  that  I  am,  with  the  blood  of  these 
people  upon  me!  " 

The  companions  of  Ahsalam  delivered  them- 
selves to  the  soldiers,  who  committed  them  to  the 
prison  at  Shawan,  and  Ben  Ahoo  went  home  in  con- 
tent. 

Rumour  of  what  had  come  to  pass  was  not  long 
in  reaching  Tetuan,  and  Israel  was  charged  with 
the  guilt  of  it.  In  passing  through  the  streets  the 
next  day  on  his  way  to  his  house  the  people  hissed 
him  openly.  "Allah  had  not  written  it!"  a  Moor 
shouted  as  he  passed.  "  Take  care!  "  cried  an  Arab, 
"  Mohammed  of  Mequinez  is  coming!  " 

It  chanced  that  night,  after  sundown,  when  Na- 
omi, according  to  her  wont,  led  her  father  to  the 
upper  room,  and  fetched  the  Book  of  the  Law  from 
tlir  cupboard  of  the  wall  and  laid  it  upon  his  knees, 
thai  he  read  the  passage  whereon  the  page  opened 
of  itself,  scarce  knowing  what  he  read  when  he 
began  to  read  it,  for  his  spirit  was  heavy  with  the 
bad  doings  of  those  days.  And  the  passage  whereon 
the  book  opened  was  this — 

"Aaron  shall  cast  lots  upon  the  two  goats:  one 
lot  for  the  Lord,  and  Hie  other  lot  for  the  scapegoat. 
.  .  .  Then  shall  he  kill  the  goat  of  the  sin-offering 


THE   VISION  OF  THE  SCAPEGOAT.  85 

that  is  for  the  people,  and  bring  his  blood  within 
the  vail.  And  he  shall  make  an  atonement  for  the 
holy  place,  because  of  the  uncleanness  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel,  and  because  of  their  transgressions 
in  all  their  sins.  .  .  .  And  when  he  hath  made  an 
end  of  reconciling  the  holy  place,  and  the  tabernacle 
of  the  congregation,  and  the  altar,  he  shall  bring  the 
live  goat:  and  Aaron  shall  lay  both  his  hands  upon 
the  head  of  the  live  goat,  and  confess  over  him  all 
the  iniquities  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  all  their 
transgressions  in  all  their  sins,  putting  them  upon 
the  head  of  the  goat,  and  shall  send  him  away  by 
the  hand  of  a  fit  man  into  the  wilderness.  And  the 
goat  shall  bear  upon  him  all  their  iniquities  unto  a 
land  not  inhabited." 

That  same  night  Israel  dreamt  a  dream.  He  had 
been  asleep,  and  had  awakened  in  a  place  which  he 
did  not  know.  It  was  a  great  arid  wilderness.  Ashen 
sand  lay  on  every  side;  a  scorching  sun  beat  down 
on  it,  and  nowhere  was  there  a  glint  of  water.  Israel 
gazed,  and  slowly  through  the  blazing  sunlight  he 
discerned  white  roofless  walls  like  the  ruins  of  little 
sheepfolds.  "  They  are  tombs,"  he  told  himself, 
"  and  this  is  a  Mukabar — an  Arab  graveyard — the 
most  desolate  place  in  the  world  of  God."  But,  look- 
ing again,  he  saw  that  the  roofless  walls  covered  the 
ground  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  and  the  thought 
came  to  him  that  this  ashen  desert  was  the  earth 
itself,  and  that  all  the  world  of  life  and  man  was 
dead.  Then,  suddenly,  in  the  motionless  wilderness, 
a  solitary  creature  moved.  It  was  a  goat,  and  it 
toiled  over  the  hot  sand  with  its  head  hung  down 
and  its  tongue  lolled  out.     "  Water! "  it  seemed  to 


86  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

cry,  though  it  made  no  voice,  and  its  eyes  traversed 
the  plain  as  if  they  would  pierce  the  ground  for  a 
spring.  Fever  and  delirium  fell  upon  Israel.  The 
goat  came  near  to  him  and  lifted  up  its  eyes,  and 
he  saw  its  face.  Then  he  shrieked  and  awoke.  The 
face  of  the  goat  had  been  the  face  of  Naomi. 

Now  Israel  knew  that  this  was  no  more  than  a 
dream,  coming  of  the  passage  which  he  had  read 
out  of  the  book  at  sundown,  but  so  vivid  was  the 
sense  of  it  that  he  could  not  rest  in  his  bed  until  he 
had  first  seen  Naomi  with  his  waking  eyes,  that  he 
might  laugh  in  his  heart  to  think  how  the  eye  of  his 
sleep  had  fooled  him.  So  he  lit  his  lamp,  and  walked 
through  the  silent  house  to  where  Naomi's  room  was 
on  the  lower  floor  of  it. 

There  she  lay,  sleeping  so  peacefully,  with  her 
sunny  hair  flowing  over  the  pillow  on  either  side  of 
her  beautiful  face,  and  rippling  in  little  curls  about 
her  neck.  How  sweet  she  looked!  How  like  a  dear 
bud  of  womanhood  just  opening  to  the  eye! 

Israel  sat  down  beside  her  for  a  moment.  Many 
a  time  before,  at  such  hours,  he  had  sat  in  that  same 
place,  and  then  gone  his  ways,  and  she  had  known 
nothing  of  it.  She  was  like  any  other  maiden  now. 
Her  eyes  were  closed,  and  who  should  see  that  they 
were  blind?  Her  breath  came  gently,  and  who 
should  say  that  it  gave  forth  no  speech?  Tier  face 
was  quiet,  and  who  should  think  that  it  was  not 
the  face  of  a  homely-hearted  girl?  Israel  loved  these 
moments  when  he  was  alone  with  Naomi  while  she 
slept,  for  then  only  did  she  seem  to  be  entirely  his 
own,  and  he  was  not  so  lonely  while  he  was  sitting 
there.  Though  men  thought  he  was  strong,  yet  he 
was  very  weak.    He  had  no  one  in  the  world  to  talk 


THE   VISION  OF  THE  SCAPEGOAT.  87 


to  save  Naomi,  and  she  was  dumb  in  the  daytime, 
but  in  the  night  he  could  hold  little  conversations 
with  her.  His  love!  his  dove!  his  darling!  How 
easily  he  could  trick  and  deceive  himself  and  think, 
She  will  awake  presently,  and  speak  to  me!  Yes; 
her  eyes  will  open  and  see  me  here  again,  and  I  shall 
hear  her  voice,  for  I  love  it!  "  Father!  "  she  will 
say.     "  Father— father " 

Only  the  moment  of  undeceiving  was  so  cruel! 

Naomi  stirred,  and  Israel  rose  and  left  her.  As 
he  went  back  to  his  bed,  through  the  corridor  of  the 
patio,  he  heard  a  night-cry  behind  him  that  made 
his  hair  to  rise.  It  was  Naomi  laughing  in  her 
sleep. 

Israel  dreamt  again  that  night,  and  he  believed 
his  second  dream  to  be  a  vision.  It  was  only  a  dream, 
like  the  first;  but  what  his  dream  would  be  to  us 
is  nought,  and  what  it  was  to  him  is  everything.  The 
vision  as  he  thought  he  saw  it  was  this,  and  these 
were  the  words  of  it  as  he  thought  he  heard  them — 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  he  was  lying 
in  his  own  room,  when  a  dull  red  light  as  of  dying 
flame  crossed  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  a  voice  that 
was  as  the  voice  of  the  Lord  came  out  of  it,  crying 
"Israel!" 

And  Israel  was  sorely  afraid,  and  answered, 
"  Speak,  Lord,  Thy  servant  heareth." 

Then  the  Lord  said,  "  Thou  hast  read  of  the  goats 
whereon  the  high  priest  cast  lots,  one  lot  for  the  sin- 
offering  and  one  lot  for  the  scapegoat." 

And  Israel  answered  trembling,  "  I  have  read." 

Then  the  Lord  said  to  Israel,  "  Look  now  upon 
Naomi,  thy  child,  for  she  is  as  the  sin-offering  for 
thy  sins,  to  make  atonement  for  thy  transgressions, 


88  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

for  thee  and  for  thy  household,  and  therefore  she  is 
dumb  to  all  uses  of  speech,  and  blind  to  all  service 
of  sight,  a  soul  in  chains  and  a  spirit  in  prison,  for 
behold,  she  is  as  the  lot  that  is  cast  for  justice  and 
for  the  Lord." 

And  Israel  groaned  in  his  agony  and  cried, 
'*  Would  that  the  lot  had  fallen  upon  me,  0  Lord, 
that  Thou  mightest  be  justified  when  Thou  speakest, 
and  be  clear  when  Thou  judgest,  for  I  alone  am 
guilty  before  Thee." 

Then  said  the  Lord  to  Israel,  "  On  thee,  also, 
hath  the  lot  fallen,  even  the  lot  of  the  scapegoat  of 
the  enemies  of  the  people  of  God." 

And  Israel  quaked  with  fear,  and  the  Lord  called 
to  him  again,  and  said,  "  Israel,  even  as  the  scape- 
goat carries  the  iniquities  of  the  people,  so  dost  thou 
carry  the  iniquities  of  thy  master.  Ben  Aboo,  and 
of  his  wife,  Katrina;  and  even  as  the  goat  bears  the 
sins  of  the  people  into  the  wilderness,  so,  in  the 
resurrection,  shalt  thou  bear  the  sins  of  this  man 
and  of  this  woman  into  a  land  that  no  man  knoweth." 

Then  Israel  wrestled  no  longer  with  the  Lord, 
but  sweated  as  it  were  drops  of  blood,  and  cried, 
"  What  shall  I  do,  0  Lord?" 

And  the  Lord  said,  "Lie  unto  the  morning,  and 
then  arise,  get  thee  to  the  country  by  Mequinez  and 
to  the  man  there  whereof  thou  hast  heard  tidings, 
and  he  shall  show  thee  what  thou  shalt  do." 

Then  Israel  wept  with  gladness,  and  cried,  say- 
ing, "Shall  my  soul  live?  Shall  the  lot  be  lifted 
from  off  me,  and  from  off  Naomi,  my  daughter?" 

But  the  Lord  left  him,  the  red  light  died  out 
from  across  the  bed,  and  all  around  was  darkness. 

Xow  to  the  last  dav  and  hour  of  his  life  Israel 


THE  VISION  OF  THE  SCAPEGOAT.  89 

would  have  taken  oath  on  the  Scriptures  that  he  saw 
this  vision,  and  heard  this  voice,  not  in  his  sleep  and 
as  in  a  dream,  but  awake,  and  having  plain  sight 
of  all  common  things  about  him — his  room  and  his 
bed,  and  the  canopy  that  covered  it.  And  on  rising 
in  the  morning,  at  daydawn,  so  actual  was  the  sense 
of  what  he  had  seen  and  heard,  and  so  powerful  the 
impression  of  it,  that  he  straightway  set  himself  to 
carry  out  the  injunction  it  had  made,  without  ques- 
tion of  its  reality  or  doubt  of  its  authority. 

Therefore,  committing  his  household  to  the  care 
of  Ali,  who  was  now  grown  to  be  a  stalwart  black 
lad,  his  constant  right  hand  and  helpmate,  Israel 
first  sent  to  the  Governor,  saying  he  should  be  ten 
days  absent  from  Tetuan,  and  then  to  the  Kasbah 
for  a  soldier  and  guide,  and  to  the  market-place  for 
mules. 

Before  the  sun  was  high  everything  was  in  readi- 
ness, and  the  caravan  was  waiting  at  the  door.  Then 
Israel  remembered  Naomi.  Where  was  the  girl,  that 
he  had  not  seen  her  that  morning?  They  answered 
him  that  she  had  not  yet  left  her  room,  and  he  sent 
the  black  woman  Fatimah  to  fetch  her.  And  when 
she  came  and  he  had  kissed  her,  bidding  her  fare- 
well in  silence,  his  heart  misgave  him  concerning 
her,  and,  after  raising  his  foot  to  the  stirrup,  he 
returned  to  where  she  stood  in  the  patio  with  the 
two  bondwomen  beside  her. 

"  Is  she  well  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,  well — very  well,"  said  Fatimah,  and 
Habeebah  echoed  her.  Nevertheless,  Israel  remem- 
bered that  he  had  not  heard  the  only  language  of 
her  lips,  her  laugh,  and,  looking  at  her  again,  he  saw 
that  her  face,  which  had  used  to  be  cheerful,  was 


90  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

now  sad.  At  that  he  almost  repented  of  his  pur- 
pose, and  but  for  shame  in  his  own  eyes  he  might 
have  gone  no  farther,  for  it  smote  him  with  terror 
that,  though  she  were  sick,  nothing  could  she  say 
to  stay  him,  and  even  if  she  were  dying  she  must  let 
him  go  his  ways  without  warning. 

He  kissed  her  again,  and  she  clung  to  him,  so 
that  at  last,  with  many  words  of  tender  protest  which 
she  did  not  hear,  he  had  to  break  away  from  the 
beautiful  arms  that  held  him. 

Ali  was  waiting  by  the  mules  in  the  streets,  and 
the  soldier  and  guide  and  muleteers  and  tentmen 
were  already  mounted,  amid  a  chattering  throng  of 
idle  people  looking  on. 

"  Ali,  my  lad,"  said  Israel,  "  if  anything  should 
befall  Xaomi  while  I  am  away,  will  you  watch  over 
her  and  guard  her  with  all  your  strength?" 

"  "With  all  my  life,"  said  Ali  stoutly.  He  was 
Naomi's  playfellow  no  longer,  but  her  devoted  slave. 

Then  Israel  set  off  on  his  journey. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


Israel's  journey. 


Mohammed  of  Mequinez,  the  man  whom  Israel 
went  out  to  seek,  had  been  a  Kadi  and  the  son  of 
a  Kadi.  While  he  was  still  a  child  his  father  died, 
and  he  was  brought  up  by  two  uncles,  his  father's 
brothers,  both  men  of  yet  higher  place,  the  one 
being  Nai'b  es-sultan,  or  Foreign  Minister,  at  Tan- 
gier, and  the  other  Grand  Vizier  to  the  Sultan  at 
Morocco.  Thus  in  a  land  where  there  is  one  noble 
only,  the  Sultan  himself,  where  ascent  and  descent 
are  as  free  as  in  a  republic,  though  the  ways  of  both 
are  mired  with  crime  and  corruption,  Mohammed 
was  come  as  from  the  highest  nobility.  Neverthe- 
less, he  renounced  his  rank  and  the  hope  of  wealth 
that  went  along  with  it  at  the  call  of  duty  and  the 
cry  of  misery. 

He  parted  from  his  uncles,  abandoned  his  judge- 
si  lip,  and  went  out  into  the  plains.  The  poor  and 
outcast  and  downtrodden  among  the  people,  the 
shamed,  the  disgraced,  and  the  neglected  left  the 
towns  and  followed  him.  He  established  a  sect. 
They  were  to  be  despisers  of  riches  and  lovers  of 
poverty.  No  man  among  them  was  to  have  more 
than  another.  They  were  never  to  buy  or  sell  among 
themselves,  but  every  one  was  to  give  what  he  had 
to  him  that  wanted  it.    They  were  to  avoid  swearing, 

91 


92  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

yet  whatever  they  said  was  to  be  firmer  than  an  oath. 
They  were  to  be  ministers  of  peace,  and  if  any  man 
did  them  violence  they  were  never  to  resist  him. 
Nevertheless,  they  were  not  to  lack  for  courage,  but 
to  laugh  to  scorn  the  enemies  that  tormented  them, 
and  smile  in  their  pains  and  shed  no  tear.  And  as 
for  death,  if  it  was  for  their  glory  they  were  to 
esteem  it  more  than  life,  because  their  bodies  only 
were  corruptible,  but  their  souls  were  immortal,  and 
would  mount  upwards  when  released  from  the  bond- 
age of  the  flesh.  Not  dissenters  from  the  Koran, 
but  stricter  conformers  to  it;  not  Nazarenes  and  not 
Jews,  yet  followers  of  Jesus  in  their  customs  and  of 
Moses  in  their  doctrines. 

And  Moors  and  Berbers,  Arabs  and  Xegroes, 
Muslimeen  and  Jews,  heard  the  cry  of  Mohammed  of 
Mequinez,  and  he  received  them  all.  From  the 
streets,  from  the  market-places,  from  the  doors  of 
the  prisons,  from  the  service  of  hard  masters,  and 
from  the  ragged  army  itself,  they  arose  in  hundreds 
and  trooped  after  him.  They  needed  no  badge  but 
the  badge  of  poverty,  and  no  voice  of  pleading  but 
the  voice  of  misery.  Most  of  them  brought  nothing 
with  them  in  their  hands,  and  some  brought  little 
on  their  backs  save  the  stripes  of  their  tormentors. 
A  few  had  flocks  and  herds,  which  they  drove  be- 
fore  them;  a  few  had  tents,  which  they  shared  with 
their  fellows;  and  a  few  had  guns,  with  which  they 
-hot  the  wild  boar  for  their  food  and  the  hyena  for 
their  safety.  Thus,  possessing  little  and  desiring 
nothing,  having  neither  houses  nor  lands,  and  only 
considering  t  hem-elves  secure  from  their  rulers  in 
having  no  money,  this  company  of  battered  human 
wrecks,  life-broken  and  crime-logged  and  stranded, 


ISRAEL'S  JOURNEY.  93 

passed  with  their  leader  from  place  to  place  of  the 
waste  country  about  Mequinez.  And  he,  being  as 
poor  as  they  were,  though  he  might  have  been  so 
rich,  cheered  them  always,  even  when  they  mur- 
mured against  him,  as  Absalam  had  cheered  his  little 
fellowship  at  Tetuan:  "  God  will  feed  us  as  He  feeds 
the  birds  of  the  air,  and  clothe  our  little  ones  as  He 
clothes  the  fields." 

Such  was  the  man  whom  Israel  went  out  to  seek. 
But  Israel  knew  his  people  too  well  to  make  known 
his  errand.  His  besetting  difficulties  were  enough 
already.  The  year  was  young,  but  the  days  were 
hot;  a  palpitating  haze  floated  always  in  the  air, 
and  the  grass  and  the  broom  had  the  dusty  and  tired 
look  of  autumn.  It  was  also  the  month  of  the  fast 
of  Eamadhan,  and  Israel's  men  were  Muslims.  So, 
to  save  himself  the  double  vexation  of  oppressive 
days  and  the  constant  bickerings  of  his  famished 
people,  Israel  found  it  necessary  at  length  to  travel 
in  the  night.  In  this  way  his  journey  was  the  shorter 
for  the  absence  of  some  obstacles,  but  his  time  was 
long. 

And,  just  as  he  had  hidden  his  errand  from  the 
men  of  his  own  caravan,  so  he  concealed  it  from  the 
people  of  the  country  that  he  passed  through,  and 
many  and  various,  and  sometimes  ludicrous  and 
sometimes  very  pitiful,  were  the  conjectures  they 
made  concerning  it.  While  he  was  passing  through 
his  own  province  of  Tetuan.  nothing  did  the  poor 
people  think  but  that  he  had  come  to  make  a  new 
assessment  of  their  lands  and  holdings,  their  cattle 
and  belongings,  that  he  might  tax  them  afresh  and 
more  fully.  So.  to  buy  his  mercy  in  advance,  many 
of  them  came  out  of  their  houses  as  he  drew  near, 


94:  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  knelt  on  the  ground  before  his  horse,  and  kissed 
the  skirts  of  his  kaftan,  and  his  knees,  and  even  his 
foot  in  his  stirrup,  and  called  him  Sidi  (master,  my 
lord),  a  title  never  before  given  to  a  Jew,  and  offered 
him  presents  out  of  their  meagre  substance. 

"  A  gift  for  my  lord,"  they  would  say,  "  of  the 
little  that  God  has  given  us,  praise  His  merciful 
name  for  ever!  " 

Then  they  would  push  forward  a  sheep  or  a  goat, 
or  a  string  of  hens  tied  by  the  legs  so  as  to  hang 
across  his  saddle-bow,  or,  perhaps,  at  the  two  trem- 
bling hands  of  an  old  woman  living  alone  on  a  hun- 
gry scratch  of  land  in  a  desolate  place,  a  bowl  of 
buttermilk. 

Israel  was  touched  by  the  people's  terror,  but  he 
betrayed  no  feeling. 

"  Keep  them,"  he  would  answer;  "  keep  them 
until  T  come  again,"  intending  to  tell  them,  when 
that  time  came,  to  keep  their  poor  gifts  altogether. 

And  when  he  had  passed  out  of  the  province  of 
Tetuan  into  the  bashalic  of  El  Kasar,  the  bare- 
headed country-people  of  the  valley  of  the  Koos 
hastened  before  him  to  the  Kaid  of  that  grey  town 
of  bricks  and  storks  and  palm-trees  and  evil  odours, 
and  the  Kaid,  with  another  notion  of  his  errand, 
came  to  the  tumble-down  bridge  to  meet  him  on  his 
approach  in  the  early  morning. 

"Peace  be  with  you!"  said  the  Kaid.  "So  my 
lord  is  going  again  to  the  Shereef  at  Wazan;  may 
the  mercy  of  the  Merciful  protect  him!" 

[srael  neither  answered  yea  nor  nay,  but  threaded 
the  maze  of  crooked  lanes  to  the  lodging  which  had 
been  provided  for  him  near  the  market-place,  and 
the  same   night    he   left    the  town    (laden   with  the 


ISRAEL'S  JOURNEY.  95 

presents  of  the  Kaid)  through  a  line  of  famished 
and  half-naked  beggars  who  looked  on  with  feverish 
eyes. 

Next  da)',  at  dawn,  he  came  to  the  heights  of 
Wazan  (a  holy  city  of  Morocco),  by  the  olives  and 
junipers  and  evergreen  oaks  that  grow  at  the  foot 
of  the  lofty,  double-peaked  Boo-Hallal,  and  there 
the  young  grand  Shereef  himself,  at  the  gate  of  his 
odorous  orange-gardens,  stood  waiting  to  give  audi- 
ence with  yet  another  conjecture  as  to  the  intention 
of  his  journey. 

"Welcome!  welcome!"  said  the  Shereef;  "all 
you  see  is  yours  until  Allah  shall  decree  that  you 
leave  me  too  soon  on  your  happy  mission  to  our  lord 
the  Sultan  at  Fez — may  God  prolong  his  life  and 
bless  him!  " 

"  God  make  you  happy!  "  said  Israel;  but  he  of- 
fered no  answer  to  the  question  that  was  implied. 

"  It  is  twenty  and  odd  years,  my  lord,"  the  She- 
reef continued,  "  since  my  father  sent  for  you  out 
of  Tetuan,  and  many  are  the  ups  and  downs  that 
time  has  wrought  since  then,  under  Allah's  will;  but 
none  in  the  past  have  been  so  grateful  as  the  eleva- 
tion of  Israel  ben  Oliel,  and  none  in  the  future  can 
be  so  joyful  as  the  favours  which  the  Sultan  (God 
keep  our  lord  Abd  er-Eahman!)  has  still  in  store  for 
him." 

"  God  will  show,"  said  Israel. 

No  Jew  had  ever  yet  ridden  in  this  Moroccan 
Mecca;  but  the  Shereef  alighted  from  his  horse  and 
offered  it  to  Israel,  and  took  Israel's  horse  instead, 
and  together  they  rode  through  the  market-place, 
and  past  the  old  Mosque  that  is  a  ruin  inhabited 
by  hawks,  and  the  other  mosque  of  the  Aissawa,  and 


90  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

the  three  squalid  fondaks  wherein  the  Jews  live  like 
cattle.  A  swarm  of  Arabs  followed  at  their  heels 
in  tattered  greasy  rags,  a  group  of  Jews  went  by 
them  barefoot,  and  a  knot  of  bedraggled  renegades 
leaning  against  the  walls  of  the  prison  dotted  the 
caps  from  their  dishevelled  heads  and  bowed. 

That  day,  while  the  poor  people  of  the  town 
fasted  according  to  the  ordinance  of  the  Ramadhan, 
Israel's  little  company  of  Muslimeen — guests  in  the 
house  of  the  descendants  of  the  Prophet — were,  by 
special  Shereefian  dispensation,  permitted  as  trav- 
ellers to  eat  and  drink  at  their  pleasure.  And  before 
sunset,  but  at  the  verge  of  it,  Israel  and  his  men 
started  on  their  journey  afresh,  going  out  of  the 
town,  with  the  Shereef's  black  bodyguard  riding 
before  them  for  guide  and  badge  of  honour,  through 
the  dense  and  noisome  market-place,  where  (like  a 
clock  that  is  warning  to  strike)  a  multitude  of  hun- 
gry and  thirsty  people  with  fierce  and  dirty  faces, 
under  a  heavy  wave  of  palpitating  heat,  and  amid 
clouds  of  hot  dust,  were  waiting  for  the  sound  of 
the  cannon  that  should  proclaim  the  end  of  that 
day's  fast.  Water-carriers  at  the  fountains  stood 
ready  to  fill  their  empty  goats'  skins,  women  and 
children  sat  on  the  ground  with  dishes  of  greasy 
soup  on  their  knees  and  balls  of  grain  rolled  in  their 
fingers,  men  lay  about  holding  pipes  charged  with 
keef,  and  flint  and  tinder  to  light  them,  and  the 
mooddin  himself  in  the  minaret  stood  looking  abroad 
(unless  he  were  blind)  to  where  the  red  sun  was 
lazily  sinking  under  the  plain. 

Israel's  soul  sickened  within  him,  for  well  he 
knew  that,  lavish  as  were  the  honours  that  were 
shown  him,  they  were  offered  by  the  rich  out  of  their 


ISRAEL'S  JOURNEY.  97 

selfishness  and  by  the  poor  out  of  their  fear.  While 
they  thought  the  Sultan  had  sent  for  him,  they  kissed 
his  foot  who  desired  no  homage,  and  loaded  him 
with  presents  who  needed  no  gifts.  But  one  word 
out  of  his  mouth,  only  one  little  word,  one  other 
name,  and  what  then  of  this  lip-service,  and  what 
of  this  mock-honour! 

Two  days  later  Israel  and  his  company  reached 
before  dawn  the  snake-like  ramparts  of  Mequinez, 
the  city  of  walls.  And  toiling  in  the  darkness  over 
the  barren  plain  and  the  belt  of  carrion  that  lies  in 
front  of  the  town,  through  the  heat  and  fumes  of 
the  fetid  place,  and  amid  the  furious  barks  of  the 
scavenger  dogs  which  prowl  in  the  night  around  it, 
they  came  in  the  grey  of  morning  to  the  city  gate 
over  the  stream  called  the  Father  of  Tortoises.  The 
gate  was  closed,  and  the  night  police  that  kept  it 
were  snoring  in  their  rags  under  the  arch  of  the 
wall  within. 

"Selam!  M'barak!  Abd  el  Kader!  Abd  el  Ka- 
reem!  ';i  shouted  the  Shereef's  black  guard  to  the 
sleepy  gate-keepers.  They  had  come  thus  far  in 
Israel's  honour,  and  would  not  return  to  Wazan  until 
they  had  seen  him  housed  within. 

From  the  other  side  of  the  gate,  through  the  mist 
and  the  gloom,  came  yawns  and  broken  snores  and 
then  snarls  and  curses.  "  Burn  your  father!  Pretty 
hubbub  in  the  middle  of  the  night!  " 

"  Selam! "  shouted  one  of  the  black  guard. 
"You  dog  of  dogs!  Your  father  was  bewitched  by 
a  hyena!  I'll  teach  you  to  curse  your  betters. 
Quick!  get  up,  or  I'll  shave  your  beard.  Open! 
or  I'll  ride  the  donkey  on  your  head!  There! — 
and  there! — and  there  again!  "  and  at  every  word 


98  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

the   butt   of  his  long  gun  rang  on   the   old  oaken 
gate. 

'  Hamed  el   Wazani! "  muttered  several  voices 
within. 

"  Yes,"  shouted  the  Shereefs  man.  "  And  my 
Lord  Israel  of  Tetuan  on  his  way  to  the  Sultan,  God 
grant  him  victory.  Do  you  hear,  you  dogs?  Sidi 
Israel  el  Tetawani  sitting  here  in  the  dark,  while  you 
are  sleeping  and  snoring  in  your  dirt." 

There  was  a  whispered  conference  on  the  inside, 
then  a  rattle  of  keys,  and  then  the  gate  groaned 
back  on  its  hinges.  At  the  next  moment  two  of  the 
four  gatemen  were  on  their  knees  at  the  feet  of 
Israel's  horse,  asking  forgiveness  by  grace  of  Allah 
and  his  Prophet.  In  the  meantime,  the  other  two 
had  sped  away  to  the  Kasbah,  and  before  Israel  had 
ridden  far  into  the  town,  the  Kaid — against  all  usage 
of  his  class  and  country — ran  and  met  him — afoot, 
slipperless,  wearing  nothing  but  selham  and  tar- 
boosh, out  of  breath,  yet  with  a  mouth  full  of  ex- 
cuses. 

"  I  heard  you  were  coming,"  he  panted — "  sent 
for  by  the  Sultan — Allah  preserve  him! — but  had  I 
known  you  were  to  be  here  so  soon — I — that  is " 

"Peace  be  with  you!"  interrupted  Israel. 

"  God  grant  you  peace.  The  Sultan — praise  the 
merciful  Allah!"  the  Kaid  continued,  bowing  low 
over  Israel's  stirrup — "  he  reached  Fez  from  Mar- 
rakesh  last  sunset;  you  will  be  in  time  for  him." 

"  God  will  show,"  said  Israel,  and  he  pushed  for- 
ward. 

"  Ah,  true — yes — certainly — my  lord  is  tired," 
puffed  the  Kaid,  bowing  again  most  profoundly. 
"  Well,  your  lodging  is  ready — the  best  in  Mequinez 


ISRAEL'S  JOURNEY.  99 

— and  your  mona  is  cooking — all  the  dainties  of  Bar- 
bary — and  when  our  merciful  Abd  er-Rahman  has 
made  you  his  Grand  Vizier " 

Thus  the  man  chattered  like  a  jay,  bowing  low 
at  nigh  every  word,  until  they  came  to  the  house 
wherein  Israel  and  his  people  were  to  rest  until  sun- 
set; and  always  the  burden  of  his  words  was  the 
same — the  Sultan,  the  Sultan,  the  Sultan,  and  Abd 
er-Rahman,  Abd  er-Rahman! 

Israel  could  bear  no  more.  "  Basha,"  he  said, 
"it  is  a  mistake;  the  Sultan  has  not  sent  for  me, 
and  neither  am  I  going  to  see  him." 

"  Not  going  to  him? "  the  Kaid  echoed  va- 
cantly. 

"  No,  but  to  another,"  said  Israel;  "  and  you  of 
all  men  can  best  tell  me  where  that  other  is  to  be 
found.  A  great  man,  newly  risen — yet  a  poor  man 
— the  young  Mahdi  Mohammed  of  Mequinez." 

Then  there  was  a  long  silence. 

Israel  did  not  rest  in  Mequinez  until  sunset  of 
that  day.  Soon  after  sunrise  he  went  out  at  the 
gate  at  which  he  had  so  lately  entered,  and  no  man 
showed  him  honour.  The  black  guard  of  the  Shereef 
of  Wazan  had  gone  off  before  him,  chuckling  and 
grinning  in  their  disgust,  and  behind  him  his  own 
little  company  of  soldiers,  guides,  muleteers,  and 
tentmen,  who,  like  himself,  had  neither  slept  nor 
eaten,  were  dragging  along  in  dudgeon.  The  Kaid 
had  turned  them  out  of  the  town. 

Later  in  the  day,  while  Israel  and  his  people  lay 
sheltering  within  their  tents  on  the  plain  of  Sa'is 
by  the  river  Nagar,  near  the  tent-village  called  a 
Douar,  and  the  palm-tree  by  the  bridge,  there  passed 
them  in  the  fierce  sunshine  two  men  in  the  peaked 
8 


100  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

shasheeah  of  the  soldier,  riding  at  a  furious  gallop 
from  the  direction  of  Fez,  and  shouting  to  all  they 
came  upon  to  fly  from  the  path  they  had  to  pass 
over.  They  were  messengers  of  the  Sultan,  carry- 
ing letters  to  the  Kaid  of  Mequinez,  commanding 
him  to  present  himself  at  the  palace  without  delay, 
that  he  might  give  good  account  of  his  stewardship, 
or  else  deliver  up  his  substance  and  be  cast  into 
prison  for  the  defalcations  with  which  rumour  had 
charged  him. 

Such  was  the  errand  of  the  soldiers,  according 
to  the  country-people,  who  toiled  along  after  them 
on  their  way  home  from  the  markets  at  Fez;  and 
great  was  the  glee  of  Israel's  men  on  hearing  it,  for 
they  remembered  with  bitterness  how  basely  the 
Kaid  had  treated  them  at  last  in  his  false  loyalty 
and  hypocrisy.  But  Israel  himself  was  too  nearly 
touched  by  a  sense  of  Fate's  coquetry  to  rejoice  at 
this  new  freak  of  its  whim,  though  the  victim  of  it 
had  so  lately  turned  him  from  his  door.  Miserable 
was  the  man  who  laid  up  his  treasure  in  money-bags 
and  built  his  happiness  on  the  favour  of  princes! 
When  the  one  was  taken  from  him  and  the  other 
failed  him,  where  then  was  the  hope  of  that  man's 
salvation,  whether  in  this  world  or  the  next?  The 
ilnngeon,  the  chain,  the  lash,  the  wooden  jellab — 
what  else  was  left  to  him?  Only  the  wail  of  the 
poor  whom  he  has  made  poorer,  the  curse  of  the 
orphan  whom  he  has  made  fatherless,  and  the  exe- 
cration of  the  downtrodden  whom  he  has  oppressed. 
These  followed  him  into  his  prison,  and  mingled 
their  cries  with  the  clank  of  his  irons,  for  they  were 
voices  which  had  never  yet  deserted  the  man  that 
made  them,  but  clamoured  loud  at  the  last  when 


ISRAEL'S  JOURNEY.  101 

his  end  had  come,  above  the  death-rattle  in  his 
throat.  One  dim  hour  waited  for  all  men  always, 
whether  in  the  prison  or  in  the  palace — one  lonely 
hour  wherein  none  could  bear  him  company — and 
what  was  wealth  and  treasure  to  man's  soul  beyond 
it?  Was  it  power  on  earth?  Was  it  glory?  Was 
it  riches?  Oh!  glory  of  the  earth — what  could  it 
be  but  a  will-o'-the-wisp  pursued  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night!  Oh!  riches  of  gold  and  silver — what 
had  they  ever  been  but  marsh-fires  gathered  in  the 
dusk!  The  empire  of  the  world  was  evil,  and  evil 
was  the  service  of  the  prince  of  it! 

Then  Israel  thought  of  Naomi,  his  sweet  treas- 
ure so  far  away.  Though  all  else  fell  from  him  like 
dry  sand  from  graspless  fingers,  yet  if  by  God's  good 
mercy  the  lot  of  the  sin-offering  could  be  lifted  away 
from  his  child,  he  would  be  content  and  happy.  Na- 
omi! His  love!  His  darling!  His  sweet  flower, 
afflicted  for  his  transgression.  Oh!  let  him  lose  any- 
thing, everything,  all  that  the  world  and  all  that 
the  devil  had  given  him;  but  let  the  curse  be  lifted 
from  his  helpless  child!  For  what  was  gold  with- 
out gladness,  and  what  was  plenty  without  peace? 

Israel  lit  upon  the  Mahdi  at  last  in  the  country 
of  the  verbena  and  the  musk  that  lies  outside  the 
walls  of  Fez.  The  prophet  was  a  young  man  of  un- 
usual stature,  but  no  great  strength  of  body,  with  a 
head  that  drooped  like  a  flower  and  with  the  wild 
eyes  of  an  enthusiast.  His  people  were  a  vast  con- 
course that  covered  the  plain  a  furlong  .square,  and 
included  multitudes  of  women  and  children.  Israel 
had  come  upon  them  at  an  evil  moment.  The  people 
were  murmuring  against  their  leader.  Six  months 
ago  they  had  abandoned  their  houses  and  followed 


102  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

him.  They  had  passed  from  Mequinez  to  Babat, 
from  Eabat  to  Mazagan,  from  Mazagan  to  Mogador, 
from  Mogador  to  Marrakesh,  and  finally  from  Mar- 
rakesh through  the  treacherous  Beni  Magild  to  Fez. 
At  every  step  their  numbers  had  increased,  but  their 
substance  had  diminished,  for  only  the  destitute  had 
joined  them.  Nevertheless,  while  they  had  their 
flocks  and  herds  they  had  borne  their  privations  pa- 
tiently— the  weary  journeys,  the  exposure,  the  long 
rains  of  the  spring  and  the  scorching  heat  of  sum- 
mer. But  the  soldiers  of  the  Kaids  whose  provinces 
they  had  passed  through  had  stripped  them  of  both 
in  the  name  of  tribute.  The  last  raid  on  their  pov- 
erty had  been  made  that  very  day  by  the  Kaid  of 
Fez,  and  now  they  were  without  goats  or  sheep  or 
oxen,  or  even  the  guns  with  which  they  had  killed 
the  wild  bear,  and  their  children  were  crying  to 
them  for  bread. 

So  the  people's  faces  grew  black,  and  they  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes  in  their  impotent  rage.  Why 
had  they  been  brought  out  of  the  cities  to  starve? 
Better  to  stay  there  and  suffer  than  come  out  and 
perish!  What  of  the  vain  promises  that  had  been 
made  to  them  that  God  would  feed  them  as  He  fed 
the  birds!  God  was  witness  to  all  their  calamities; 
He  was  seeing  them  robbed  day  by  day,  He  was  see- 
ing them  famish  hour  by  hour.  He  was  seeing  them 
die.  They  had  been  fooled!  A  vain  man  had 
thought  to  plough  his  way  to  power.  Through  their 
bodies  he  was  now  ploughing  it.  "  The  hunger  is  on 
us!"  "Our  children  are  perishing!"  "Find  us 
food!"    "Food!"    "Food!" 

With  such  shouts,  mingled  with  deep  oaths,  the 
hungry  multitude  in  their  madness  had  encompassed 


ISRAEL'S  JOURNEY.  103 

Mohammed  of  Mequinez  as  Israel  and  his  company 
came  up  with  them.  And  Israel  heard  their  cries, 
and  also  the  voice  of  their  leader  when  he  answered 
them. 

First  the  young  prophet  rose  up  among  his  peo- 
ple, with  flashing  eyes  and  quivering  nostrils.  "  Do 
you  think  I  am  Moses,"  he  cried,  "  that  I  should 
smite  the  rock  and  work  you  a  miracle?  If  you  are 
starving,  am  I  full?  If  you  are  naked,  am  I 
clothed?" 

But  in  another  instant  the  fire  of  anger  was  gone 
from  his  face,  and  he  was  saying  in  a  very  moving 
voice,  "  My  good  people,  who  have  followed  me 
through  all  these  miseries,  I  know  that  your  bur- 
dens are  heavier  than  you  can  bear,  and  that  your 
lives  are  scarce  to  be  endured,  and  that  death  itself 
would  be  a  relief.  Nevertheless,  who  shall  say  but 
that  Allah  sees  a  way  to  avert  these  trials  of  His 
poor  servants,  and  that,  unknown  to  us  all,  He  is 
even  at  this  moment  bringing  His  mercy  to  pass! 
Patience,  I  beg  of  you;  patience,  my  poor  people — 
patience  and  trust!  " 

At  that  the  murmurs  of  discontent  were  hushed. 
Then  Israel  remembered  the  presents  with  which 
the  Kaid  of  El  Kasar  and  the  Shereef  of  Wazan 
had  burdened  him.  They  were  jewels  and  ornaments 
such  as  are  sometimes  worn  unlawfully  by  vain  men 
in  that  country — silver  signet  rings  and  earrings, 
chains  for  the  neck,  and  Solomon's  seal  to  hang  on 
the  breast  as  safeguard  against  the  evil  eye — as  well 
as  much  gold  filagree  of  the  kind  that  men  give  to 
their  women.  Israel  had  packed  them  in  a  box  and 
laid  them  in  the  leaf  pannier  of  a  mule,  and  then 
given  no  further  thought  to  them;  but,  calling  now 


104  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

to  the  muleteer  who  had  charge  of  them,  he  said, 
"  Take  them  quickly  to  the  good  man  yonder,  and 
say,  '  A  present  to  the  man  of  God  and  to  his  people 
in  their  trouble.'  " 

And  when  the  muleteer  had  done  this,  and  laid 
the  box  of  gold  and  silver  open  at  the  feet  of  the 
young  Mahdi,  saying  what  Israel  had  bidden  him, 
it  was  the  same  to  the  young  man  and  his  followers 
as  if  the  sky  had  opened  and  rained  manna  on  their 
heads. 

"  It  is  an  answer  to  your  prayer,"  he  cried;  "  an 
angel  from  heaven  has  sent  it." 

Then  his  people,  as  soon  as  they  realised  what 
good  thing  had  happened  to  them,  took  up  his  shout 
of  joy,  and  shouted  out  of  their  own  parched 
throats — 

"  Prophet  of  Allah,  we  will  follow  you  to  the 
world's  end!  " 

And  then  down  on  their  knees  they  fell  around 
him,  the  vast  concourse  of  men  and  women,  all  grin- 
ning like  apes  in  their  hunger  and  glee  together, 
and  sobbing  and  laughing  in  a  breath,  like  children, 
and  sent  up  a  great  broken  cry  of  thanks  to  God 
that  He  had  sent  them  succour,  that  they  might  not 
die.  At  last,  when  they  had  risen  to  their  feet  again, 
every  man  looked  into  the  eyes  of  his  fellow  and 
said,  as  if  ashamed,  "  I  could  have  borne  it  myself, 
l)i it  when  the  children  called  to  me  for  bread,  I  was 
a  fool." 


CHAPTEK   X. 

THE   WATCHWORD    OF   THE    MAHDI. 

Early  the  next  day  Israel  set  his  face  homeward, 
with  this  old  word  of  the  new  prophet  for  his  guide 
and  motto:  "  Exact  no  more  than  is  just;  do  vio- 
lence to  no  man;  accuse  none  falsely;  part  with  your 
riches  and  give  to  the  poor."  That  was  all  the  an- 
swer he  got  out  of  his  journey,  and  if  any  man  had 
come  to  him  in  Tetuan  with  no  newer  story,  it  must 
have  heen  an  idle  and  a  foolish  errand;  but  after 
El  Kasar,  after  Wazan,  after  Mequinez,  and  now 
after  Fez,  it  seemed  to  be  the  sum  of  all  wisdom. 
"I'll  do  it,"  he  said;  "at  all  risks  and  all  costs, 
I'll  do  it." 

And,  as  a  prelude  to  that  change  in  his  way  of 
life  which  he  meant  to  bring  to  pass,  he  sent  his 
men  and  mules  ahead  of  him,  emptied  his  pockets  of 
all  that  he  should  not  need  on  his  journey,  and  pre- 
pared to  return  to  his  own  country  on  foot  and 
alone.  The  men  had  first  gaped  in  amazement,  and 
then  laughed  in  derision;  and  finally  they  had  gone 
their  ways  by  themselves,  telling  all  who  encoun- 
tered them  that  the  Sultan  at  Fez  had  stripped  their 
master  of  everything,  and  that  he  was  coming  be- 
hind them  penniless. 

But,  knowing  nothing  of  this  graceless  service, 
Israel  began  his  homeward  journey  with  a  happy 

105 


106  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

heart.  He  had  less  than  thirty  dollars  in  his  waist- 
band of  the  more  than  three  hundred  with  which  he 
had  set  out  from  Tetuan;  he  was  a  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  from  that  town,  or  five  long  days'  travel;  the 
son  was  still  hot,  and  he  must  walk  in  the  daytime. 
Surely  the  Lord  would  see  it  that  never  before  had 
any  man  done  so  much  to  wipe  out  God's  displeasure 
as  he  was  now  doing  and  yet  would  do.  He  had 
said  nothing  of  Naomi  to  the  Mahdi  even  when  he 
told  him  of  his  vision;  but  all  his  hopes  had  cen- 
tred in  the  child.  The  lot  of  the  sin-offering  must 
be  gone  from  her  now,  and  in  the  resurrection  he 
would  meet  her  without  shame.  If  he  had  brought 
fruits  meet  to  repentance,  then  must  her  debt  also  be 
wiped  away.  Surely  never  before  had  any  child  been 
so  smitten  of  God,  and  never  had  any  father  of  an 
afflicted  child  bought  God's  mercy  at  so  dear  a  price! 

Such  were  the  thoughts  that  Israel  cherished 
secretly,  though  he  dared  not  to  utter  them,  lest 
he  should  seem  to  be  bribing  God  out  of  his  love 
of  the  child.  And  thus  if  his  heart  was  glad  as  he 
turned  towards  home,  it  was  proud  also,  and  if  it 
was  grateful  it  was  also  vain;  but  vanity  and  pride 
were  both  smitten  out  of  it  in  an  hour,  before  he 
went  through  the  gates  of  Fez  (wherein  he  had  slept 
the  night  preceding),  by  three  sights  which,  though 
stern  and  pitiful,  were  of  no  uncommon  occurrence 
in  that  town  and  province. 

First,  it  chanced  that  as  he  was  passing  from  the 
southeast  of  the  new  town  of  Fez  to  the  gate  that  is 
at  the  northwest  corner,  going  by  the  high  walls  of 
the  Sultan's  hareom,  where  there  is  room  for  a  thou- 
sand women,  and  near  to  the  Karueei'n  mosque  that 
is  the  greatest  in  Morocco  and  rests  on  eight  hun- 


THE  WATCHWORD  OP  THE  MAHDI.         10? 

dred  pillars,  he  came  upon  two  slaveholders  selling 
twelve  or  fourteen  slaves.  The  slaves  were  all  girls, 
and  all  black,  and  of  varying  ages,  ranging  from  ten 
years  to  about  thirty.  They  had  lately  arrived  in 
caravans  from  the  Soudan,  by  way  of  Tafilet  and  the 
\\ 'argha,  and  some  of  them  looked  worn  from  the 
desert  passage.  Others  were  fresh  and  cheerful,  and 
such  as  had  claims  to  negro  beauty  were  adorned, 
after  their  doubtful  fashion,  or  the  fancy  of  their 
masters,  with  love-charms  of  silver,  worn  about  their 
necks,  with  their  fingers  pricked  out  with  hennah, 
and  their  eyelids  darkened  with  kohl.  Thus  they 
were  drawn  up  in  a  line  for  public  auction;  but  be- 
fore the  sale  of  them  could  begin  among  the  buyers 
that  had  gathered  about  them  in  the  streets,  the 
overseers  of  the  Sultan's  hareem  had  to  come  and 
make  a  selection  for  their  master.  This  the  eunuchs 
presently  did,  and  when  two  of  them  nicknamed 
Areefahs — gaunt  and  hairless  men,  with  the  faces  of 
evil  old  women  and  the  hoarse  voices  of  ravens — had 
picked  out  three  fat  black  maidens,  the  business 
of  the  auction  began  by  the  sale  of  a  negro  girl  of 
seventeen  who  was  brought  out  from  the  rest  and 
passed  around. 

"  Now,  brothers,"  said  the  slave-master,  "  look, 
see;  sound  of  wind  and  limb — how  much?  " 

"  Eighty  dollars,"  said  a  voice  from  the  crowd. 

"Eighty?  Well,  eighty  to  start  with.  Look  at 
her — rosy  lips,  fit  for  the  kisses  of  a  king,  eh?  How 
much?  " 

"  A  hundred  dollars." 

"  A  hundred  dollars  offered;  only  a  hundred. 
It's  giving  the  girl  away.  Look  at  her  teeth,  broth- 
ers, white  and  sound." 


108  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

The  slave-master  thrust  his  thumb  into  the  girl's 
mouth  and  walked  her  round  the  crowd  again. 

"  Breath  like  new-mown  hay,  brothers.  Now's 
the  chance  for  true  believers.     How  much?  " 

"  A  hundred  and  ten." 

"  A  hundred  and  ten — thanks,  Sidi !  A  hundred 
and  ten  for  this  jewel  of  a  girl.  Dirt  cheap  yet, 
brothers.  Try  her  muscles.  Look  at  her  flesh.  Not 
a  flaw  anywhere.  Pass  her  round,  test  her,  try  her, 
talk  to  her — she  speaks  good  Arabic.  Isn't  she  fit 
for  a  Sultan?  She's  the  best  thing  I'll  offer  to-day, 
and  by  the  Prophet,  if  you  are  not  quick  I'll  keep 
her  for  myself.  Now,  for  the  third  and  last  time — 
seventeen  years  of  age,  sound,  strong,  plump,  sweet 
— how  much  ?  " 

Israel's  blood  tingled  to  see  how  the  bidders 
handled  the  girl,  and  to  hear  what  shameless  ques- 
tions they  asked  of  her,  and  with  a  long  sigh  he 
was  turning  away  from  the  crowd  when  another  man 
came  up  to  it.  The  man  was  black  and  old  and 
hard-featured,  and  visibly  poor  in  his  torn  white 
selham.  But  when  he  had  looked  over  the  heads 
of  those  in  front  of  him,  he  made  a  great  shout  of 
anguish,  and,  parting  the  people,  pushed  his  way 
to  the  girl's  side,  and  opened  his  arms  to  her,  and 
she  fell  into  them  with  a  cry  of  joy  and  pain  to- 
gether. 

It  turned  out  that  he  was  a  liberated  slave,  who, 
ten  years  before,  had  been  brought  from  the  Soos 
through  the  country  of  Sidi  Hosain  ben  Hashem, 
having  been  ton]  away  from  his  wife,  who  was  since 
dead,  and  from  his  only  child,  who  thus  strangely 
rejoined  him.  This  story  he  told,  in  broken  Arabic, 
to  those  that  stood  around,  and,  hard  as  were  the 


THE   WATCHWORD  OP  THE   MAHDI.         109 

faces  of  the  bidders,  and  brutal  as  was  their  trade, 
there  was  not  an  eye  among  them  all  but  was  melted 
at  his  story. 

Seeing  tins,  Israel  cried  from  the  back  of  the 
crowd,  "  I  will  give  twenty  dollars  to  buy  him  the 
girl's  liberty,"  and  straightway  another  and  another 
offered  like  sums  for  the  same  purpose  until  the 
amount  of  the  last  bid  had  been  reached,  and  the 
slave-master  took  it,  and  the  girl  was  free. 

Then  the  poor  negro,  still  holding  his  daughter 
by  the  hand,  came  to  Israel,  with  the  tears  dripping 
down  his  black  cheeks,  and  said  in  his  broken  way: 
"  The  blessing  of  Allah  upon  you,  white  brother, 
and  if  you  have  a  child  of  your  own  may  you  never 
lose  her,  but  may  Allah  favour  her  and  let  you  keep 
her  with  you  always!  " 

That  blessing  of  the  old  black  man  was  more 
than  Israel  could  bear,  and,  facing  about  before 
hearing  the  last  of  it,  he  turned  down  the  dark  arcade 
that  descends  into  the  old  town  as  into  a  vault,  and 
having  crossed  the  markets,  he  came  upon  the  second 
of  the  three  sights  that  were  to  smite  out  of  his 
heart  his  pride  towards  God.  A  man  in  a  blue  tunic 
girded  with  a  red  sash,  and  with  a  red  cotton  hand- 
kerchief tied  about  his  head,  was  driving  a  donkey 
laden  with  trunks  of  light  trees  cut  into  short  lengths 
to  lie  over  its  panniers.  He  was  clearly  a  Spanish 
woodseller,  and  he  had  the  weary,  averted,  and  down- 
cast look  of  a  race  that  is  despised  and  kept  under. 
His  donkey  was  a  bony  creature,  with  raw  places 
on  its  flank  and  shoulders  where  its  hide  had  been 
worn  by  the  friction  of  its  burdens.  He  drove  it 
slowly,  crying  "  Arrah!  "  to  it  in  the  tongue  of  its 
own  country,  and  not  beating  it  cruelly.     At  the 


HO  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

bottom  of  the  arcade  there  was  an  open  place  where 
a  foul  ditch  was  crossed  by  a  rickety  bridge.  Com- 
ing to  this  the  man  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  doubt- 
ful whether  to  drive  his  donkey  over  it  or  to  make 
the  beast  trudge  through  the  water.  Concluding  to 
cross  the  bridge,  he  cried  "  Arrah!  "  again,  and  drove 
the  donkey  forward  with  one  blow  of  his  stick.  But 
when  the  donkey  was  in  the  middle  of  it,  the  rotten 
thing  gave  way,  and  the  beast  and  its  burden  fell 
into  the  ditch.  The  donkey's  legs  were  broken,  and 
when  a  throng  of  Arabs,  who  gathered  at  the  Span- 
iard's cry,  had  cut  away  its  panniers  and  dragged 
it  out  of  the  water  on  to  the  paving-stones  of  the 
street,  the  film  covered  its  eyes,  and  in  a  moment 
it  was  dead. 

At  that  the  man  knelt  down  beside  it,  and  patted 
it  on  its  neck,  and  called  on  it  by  its  name,  as  if 
unwilling  to  believe  that  it  was  gone.  And  while 
the  Arabs  laughed  at  him  for  doing  so — for  none 
seemed  to  pity  him — a  slatternly  girl  of  sixteen  or 
seventeen  came  scudding  down  the  arcade,  and 
pushed  her  way  through  the  crowd  until  she  stood 
where  the  dead  ass  lay  with  the  man  kneeling  be- 
side it.  Then  she  fell  on  the  man  with  bitter  re- 
proaches. "  Allah  blot  out  your  name,  you  thief!  " 
she  cried.  "  You've  killed  the  creature,  and  may 
you  starve  and  die  yourself,  you  dog  of  a  Nazarene!  " 

This  was  more  than  Israel  could  listen  to,  and 
he  commanded  the  girl  to  hold  her  peace.  "  Silence, 
you  young  wanton!  "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  of  indigna- 
tion. "  Who  are  you,  that  you  dare  trample  on  the 
man  in  his  trouble?  " 

It  turned  out  that  the  girl  was  the  man's  daugh- 
ter, and  he  was  a  renegade  from  Ceuta.     And  when 


THE  WATCHWORD   OF  THE  MAHDI.         m 

she  had  gone  off,  cursing  Israel  and  his  father  and 
his  grandfather,  the  poor  fellow  lifted  his  eyes  to 
Israel's  face,  and  said,  "  You  are  very  kind,  my  fa- 
ther. God  bless  you!  I  may  not  be  a  good  man,  sir, 
and  I've  not  lived  a  right  life,  but  it's  hard  when 
your  own  children  are  taught  to  despise  you.  Better 
to  lose  them  in  their  cradles,  before  they  can  speak 
to  you  to  curse  you." 

Israel's  hair  seemed  to  rise  from  his  scalp  at  that 
word,  and  he  turned  about  and  hurried  away.  Oh 
no,  no,  no!  He  was  not,  of  all  men,  the  most  sorely 
tried.  Worse  to  be  a  slave,  torn  from  the  arms  he 
loves!  Worse  to  be  a  father  whose  children  join  with 
his  enemies  to  curse  him! 

He  had  been  wrong.  What  was  wealth,  that  it 
was  so  noble  a  sacrifice  to  part  with  it?  Money  was 
to  give  and  to  take,  to  buy  and  to  sell,  and  that 
was  all.  But  love  was  for  no  market,  and  he  who  lost 
it  lost  everything.  And  love  was  his,  and  would  be 
his  always,  for  he  loved  Naomi,  and  she  clung  to 
him  as  the  hyssop  clings  to  the  wall.  Let  him  walk 
humbly  before  God,  for  God  was  great. 

Now  these  sights,  though  they  reduced  Israel's 
pride,  increased  his  cheerfulness,  and  he  was  going 
out  at  the  gate  with  a  humbler  yet  lighter  spirit, 
when  he  came  upon  a  saint's  house  under  the  shadow 
of  the  town  walls.  It  was  a  small  whitewashed  en- 
closure, surmounted  by  a  white  flag;  and,  as  Israel 
passed  it,  the  figure  of  a  man  came  out  to  the  en- 
trance. He  was  a  poor,  miserable  creature — ragged, 
dirty,  and  with  dishevelled  hair — and,  seeing  Israel's 
eyes  upon  him,  he  began  to  talk  in  some  wild  way 
and  in  some  unknown  tongue  that  was  only  a  fierce 
jabber  of  sounds  that  had  no  words  in  them,  and  of 


112  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

words  that  had  no  meaning.  The  poor  soul  was 
mad,  and  because  he  was  distraught  he  was  counted 
a  holy  man  among  his  people,  and  put  to  live  in  this 
place,  which  was  the  tomb  of  a  dead  saint — though 
not  more  dead  to  the  ways  of  life  was  he  who  lay 
under  the  floor  than  he  who  lived  above  it.  The 
man  continued  his  wild  jabber  as  long  as  Israel's 
eyes  were  on  him,  and  Israel  dropped  two  coins  into 
his  hand  and  passed  on. 

Oh  no,  no,  no;  Naomi  was  not  the  most  afflicted 
of  all  God's  creatures.  And  yet,  and  yet,  and  yet, 
her  bodily  infirmities  were  but  the  type  and  sign 
of  how  her  soul  was  smitten. 

On  the  hill  outside  the  town  the  young  Mahdi, 
with  a  great  company  of  his  people,  was  waiting 
for  him  to  bid  him  godspeed  on  his  journey.  And 
then,  while  they  walked  some  paces  together  before 
parting,  and  the  prophet  talked  of  the  poor  follow- 
ers of  Absalam  lying  in  the  prison  at  Shawan  (for 
he  had  heard  of  them  from  Israel),  Israel  himself 
mentioned  Naomi. 

"  My  father,"  he  said,  "  there  is  something  that 
I  have  not  told  you." 

"  Tell  it  now,  my  son,"  said  the  Mahdi. 

"  I  have  a  little  daughter  at  home,  and  she  is  very 
sweet  and  beautiful.  You  would  never  think  how 
like  sunshine  she  is  to  me  in  my  lonely  house,  for 
her  mother  is  gone,  and  but  for  her  I  should  be 
alone,  and  so  she  is  very  near  and  dear  to  me.  But 
she  is  in  the  land  of  silence  and  in  the  land  of  night. 
Nothing  can  she  see,  and  nothing  hear,  and  never 
has  her  voice  opened  the  curtains  of  the  air,  for  she 
is  blind  and  dumb  and  deaf." 

"Merciful  Allah!"  cried  the  Mahdi. 


THE   WATCHWORD  OF  THE   MAHDI.        113 


a 


Ah!  is  her  state  so  terrible?  I  thought  you 
would  think  it  so.  Yes,  for  all  she  is  so  beautiful, 
she  is  only  as  a  creature  of  the  fields  that  knows  not 
God." 

"  Allah  preserve  her!  "  cried  the  Mahdi. 

"  And  she  is  smitten  for  my  sin,  for  the  Lord 
revealed  it  to  me  in  the  vision,  and  my  soul  trem- 
bles for  her  soul.  But  if  God  has  washed  me  with 
water  should  not  she  also  be  clean?" 

"  God  knows,"  said  the  Mahdi.  "  He  gives  no 
rewards  for  repentance." 

"  But  listen!  "  said  Israel.  "  In  a  vision  of  death 
her  mother  saw  her,  and  she  was  afflicted  no  more. 
No,  for  she  could  see,  and  hear,  and  speak.  Man 
of  God,  will  it  come  to  pass?" 

"  God  is  good,"  said  the  Mahdi.  "  He  needs 
that  no  man  should  teach  Him  pity." 

"  But  I  love  her,"  cried  Israel,  "  and  I  vowed  to 
her  mother  to  guard  her.  She  is  joy  of  my  joy  and 
life  of  my  life.  Without  her  the  morning  has  no 
freshness  and  the  night  no  rest.  Surely  the  Lord 
sees  this,  and  will  have  mercy?  " 

The  Mahdi  held  back  his  tears,  and  answered, 
"  The  Lord  sees  all.  Go  your  way  in  trust.  Fare- 
well!" 

"Farewell!" 


CHAPTER   XI. 


Israel's  home-coming. 


Israel's  return  home  was  an  experience  at  all 
points  the  reverse  of  his  going  abroad.  He  had  seven 
dollars  in  the  pocket  of  his  waistband  on  setting 
away  from  Fez,  out  of  the  three  hundred  and  more 
with  which  he  had  started  from  Tetuan.  His  men 
had  gone  on  before  him  and  told  their  story.  So 
the  people  whom  he  came  upon  by  the  way  either 
ignored  him  or  jeered  at  him,  and  not  one  that  on 
his  coming  had  run  to  do  him  honour  now  stepped 
aside  that  he  might  pass. 

Two  days  after  leaving  Fez  he  came  again  to 
Wazan.  Women  were  going  home  from  market  by 
the  side  of  their  camels,  and  charcoal-burners  were 
riding  back  to  the  country  on  the  empty  burdas  of 
their  mules.  It  was  nigh  upon  sunset  when  Israel 
entered  the  town,  and  so  exactly  was  everything  the 
same  that  he  could  almost  have  tricked  himself  and 
believed  that  scarce  two  minutes  had  passed  since 
he  had  left  it.  There  at  the  fountains  were  the 
water-carriers  waiting  with  their  water-skins,  and 
there  in  the  market-place  sat  the  women  and  chil- 
dren with  their  dishes  of  soup;  there  were  the  men 
by  the  booths  will)  their  pipes  ready  charged  with 
keef,  and  there  was  the  mooddin  in  the  minaret, 
looking  out  over  the  plain.  Everything  was  the  same 
114 


ISRAEL'S  HOME-COMING.  H5 

save  one  thing,  and  that  concerned  Israel  himself. 
No  Grand  Shereef  stood  waiting  to  exchange  horses 
with  him,  and  no  black  guard  led  him  through  the 
town.  Footsore  and  dirty,  covered  with  dust,  and 
tired,  he  walked  through  the  streets  alone.  And 
when  presently  the  voice  rang  out  overhead,  and 
the  breathless  town  broke  instantly  into  bubbles  of 
sounds — the  tinkling  of  the  bells  of  the  water-car- 
riers, the  shouts  of  the  children,  and  the  calls  of 
the  men — only  one  man  seemed  to  see  him  and  know 
him.  This  was  an  Arab,  wearing  scarcely  enough 
rags  to  cover  his  nakedness,  who  was  bathing  his  hot 
cheeks  in  water  which  a  water-carrier  was  pouring 
into  his  hands,  and  he  lifted  his  glistening  face  as 
Israel  passed,  and  called  him  "  Dog!  "  and  "  Jew! " 
and  commanded  him  to  uncover  his  feet. 

Israel  slept  that  night  in  one  of  the  three  squalid 
fondaks  of  Wazan  inhabited  by  the  Jews.  His  room 
was  a  sort  of  narrow  box,  in  a  square  court  of  many 
such  boxes,  with  a  handful  of  straw  shaken  over 
the  earth  floor  for  a  bed.  On  the  doorpost  the  fig- 
ure of  a  hand  was  painted  in  red,  and  over  the  lintel 
there  was  a  rude  drawing  of  a  scorpion,  with  an  im- 
precation written  under  it  that  purported  to  be  from 
the  mouth  of  the  Prophet  Joshua,  son  of  Nun.  If 
the  charm  kept  evil  spirits  from  the  place  of  Israel's 
rest,  it  did  not  banish  good  ones.  Israel  slept  in 
that  poor  bed  as  he  had  never  slept  under  the  purple 
canopy  of  his  own  chamber,  and  all  night  long  one 
angel  form  seemed  to  hover  over  him.  It  was  Na- 
omi. He  could  see  her  clearly.  They  were  together 
in  a  little  cottage  somewhere.  The  house  was  a  mean 
one,  but  jasmine  and  marjoram  and  pinks  and  roses 

grew  outside  of  it,  and  love  grew  inside.     And  Na- 
9 


116  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

omi!  How  bright  were  her  eyes,  for  they  could  see! 
Yes,  and  her  ears  could  hear,  and  her  tongue  could 
speak! 

Two  days  after  Israel  left  Wazan  he  was  back 
in  the  bashalic  of  Tetuan.  Each  night  he  had  dreamt 
the  same  dream,  and  though  he  knew  each  morning 
when  he  awoke  with  a  sigh  that  his  dream  was  only 
a  reflection  of  his  dead  wife's  vision,  yet  he  could 
not  help  but  think  of  it  the  long  day  through.  He 
tried  to  remember  if  he  had  ever  seen  the  cottage 
with  his  waking  eyes,  and  where  he  had  seen  it,  and 
to  recall  the  voice  of  Naomi  as  he  had  heard  it  in  his 
dream,  that  he  might  know  if  it  was  the  same  as  he 
used  to  think  he  heard  when  he  sat  by  her  in  his 
stolen  watches  of  the  night  while  she  lay  asleep. 
Sometimes  when  he  reflected  he  thought  he  must  be 
growing  childish,  so  foolish  was  his  joy  in  looking 
forward  to  the  night — for  he  had  almost  grown  in 
love  with  it — that  he  might  dream  his  dream  again. 

But  it  was  a  dear,  delicious  folly,  for  it  helped 
him  to  bear  the  troubles  of  his  journey,  and  they 
were  neither  light  nor  few.  After  passing  through 
El  Kasar  he  had  been  robbed  and  stripped  both  of 
his  small  remaining  moneys  and  the  better  part  of 
his  clothes  by  a  gang  of  ruffians  who  had  followed 
him  out  of  the  town.  Then  a  good  woman — the  old 
wife,  turned  into  the  servant  of  a  Moor  who  had 
married  a  young  one — had  taken  pity  on  his  con- 
dition and  given  him  a  disused  Moorish  jellab.  His 
misfortune  had  not  been  without  its  advantage. 
Being  forced  to  travel  the  rest  of  his  way  home  in 
the  disguise  of  a  Moor,  he  had  heard  himself  dis- 
cussed by  his  own  people  when  they  knew  nothing 
of  his  presence.     Every  evil  that  had  befallen  them 


ISRAEL'S  HOME-COMING.  117 

had  been  attributed  to  him.  Ben  Aboo,  their  Basha, 
was  a  good,  humane  man,  who  was  often  driven  to 
do  that  which  his  soul  abhorred.  It  was  Israel  ben 
Oliel  who  was  their  cruel  taxmaster. 

When  Israel  was  within  a  day's  journey  of  Te- 
tuan  a  terrible  plague  fell  upon  the  country.  A 
plague  of  locusts  came  up  like  a  dense  cloud  from 
the  direction  of  the  desert,  and  ate  up  every  leaf 
and  blade  of  grass  that  the  scorching  sun  had  left 
green,  so  that  the  plain  over  which  it  had  passed  was 
as  black  and  barren  as  a  lava  stream.  The  farmers 
were  impoverished,  and  the  poorer  people  made  beg- 
gars. Even  this  last  disaster  they  charged  in  their 
despair  to  Israel,  for  Allah  was  now  cursing  them 
for  Israel's  sake.  They  were  the  same  people  that 
had  thrust  their  presents  upon  him  when  he  was  set- 
ting out. 

At  the  lonesome  hut  of  the  old  woman  who  had 
offered  him  a  bowl  of  buttermilk  Israel  rested  and 
asked  for  a  drink  of  water.  She  gave  him  a  dish 
of  zummeeta — barley  roasted  like  coffee — and  in- 
quired if  he  was  going  on  to  Tetuan.  He  told  her 
yes,  and  she  asked  if  his  home  was  there.  And 
when  he  answered  that  it  was,  she  looked  at  him 
again,  and  said  in  a  moving  way,  "  Then  Allah  help 
you,  brother." 

"  Why  me  more  than  another,  sister? "  said 
Israel. 

"  Because  it  is  plain  to  see  that  you  are  a  poor 
man,"  said  the  old  woman.  "  And  that  is  the  sort 
he  is  hardest  upon." 

Israel  faltered  and  said,  "He?  Who,  mother? 
Ah,  you  mean " 

"Who  else  but  Israel  the  Jew?"  said  she;  and 


118  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

then  added,  as  by  a  sudden  afterthought,  "  But  they 
say  he  is  gone  at  last,  and  the  Sultan  has  stripped 
him.  Well,  Allah  send  us  some  one  else  soon  to  set 
right  this  poor  Gharb  of  ours!  And  what  a  man 
for  poor  men  he  might  have  been — so  wise  and 
powerful!  " 

Israel  listened  with  his  head  bent  down,  and, 
like  a  moth  at  the  flame,  he  could  not  help  but  play 
with  the  fire  that  scorched  him.  "  They  tell  me,"  he 
said,  "  that  Allah  has  cursed  him  with  a  daughter 
that  has  devils." 

"  Blind  and  dumb,  poor  soul,"  said  the  old  wom- 
an; "  but  Allah  has  pity  for  the  afflicted — he  is  tak- 
ing her  away." 

Israel  rose.    "  Away  ?  " 

"  She  is  ill  since  her  father  went  to  Fez." 

"111?" 

"  Yes,  I  heard  so  yesterday — dying." 

Israel  made  one  loud  cry  like  the  cry  of  a  beast 
that  is  slaughtered,  and  fled  out  of  the  hut.  Oh, 
fool  of  fools,  why  had  he  been  dallying  with  dreams 
— billing  and  cooing  with  his  own  fancies — fondling 
and  nuzzling  and  coddling  them?  Let  all  dreams 
henceforth  be  dead  and  damned  for  ever;  for  only 
devils  out  of  hell  had  made  them  that  poor  men's 
souls  might  be  staked  and  lost!  Oh,  why  had  he 
not  remembered  the  pale  face  of  Naomi  when  he 
I' 'ft  her,  and  the  silence  of  her  tongue  that  had  used 
to  laugh?  Fool,  fool!  Why  had  he  ever  left  her 
at  all? 

With  such  thoughts  Israel  hurried  along,  some- 
times running  at  his  utmost  velocity,  and  then  stop- 
ping dead  short;  sometimes  shouting  his  impreca- 
tions at  the  pitch  of  his  voice  and  beating  his  fist 


ISRAEL'S  HOME-COMING.  119 

against  the  sharp  aloes  until  it  bled,  and  then  whis- 
pering to  himself  in  awe. 

Would  God  not  hear  his  prayer?  God  knew  the 
child  was  very  near  and  dear  to  him,  and  also  that 
he  was  a  lonely  man.  "  Have  pity  on  a  lonely  man, 
0  God!"  he  whispered.  "Let  me  keep  my  child; 
take  all  else  that  I  have,  everything,  no  matter  what! 
Only  let  me  keep  her — yes,  just  as  she  is,  let  me  have 
her  still!  Time  was  when  I  asked  more  of  Thee, 
but  now  I  am  humble,  and  ask  that  alone." 

On  his  knees  in  a  lonesome  place,  with  the  fierce 
sun  beating  down  on  his  uncovered  head,  amid  the 
blackened  leaves  left  by  the  locust,  he  prayed  this 
prayer,  and  then  rose  to  his  feet  and  ran. 

When  he  got  to  Tetuan  the  white  city  was  glis- 
tening under  the  setting  sun.  Then  he  thought  of 
his  Moorish  jellab,  and  looked  at  himself,  and  saw 
that  he  was  returning  home  like  a  beggar;  and  he 
remembered  with  what  splendour  he  had  started 
out.  Should  he  wait  for  the  darkness,  and  creep 
into  his  house  under  the  cover  of  it?  If  the  thought 
had  occurred  an  hour  before  he  must  have  scouted 
it.  Better  to  brave  the  looks  of  every  face  in  Tetuan 
than  be  kept  back  one  minute  from  Naomi.  But 
now  that  he  was  so  near  he  was  afraid  to  go  in; 
and  now  that  he  was  so  soon  to  learn  the  truth  he 
dreaded  to  hear  it.  So  he  walked  to  and  fro  on 
the  heath  outside  the  town,  paltering  with  himself, 
struggling  with  himself,  eating  out  his  heart  with 
eagerness,  trying  to  believe  that  he  was  waiting  for 
the  night. 

The  night  came  at  length,  and,  under  a  deep- 
blue  sky  fast  whitening  with  thick  stars,  Israel 
passed  unknown  through  the  Moorish  gate,  which 


120  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

was  still  open,  and  down  the  narrow  lane  to  the 
market  square.  At  the  gate  of  the  Mellah,  which 
was  closed,  he  knocked,  and  demanded  entrance  in 
the  name  of  the  Kaid.  The  Moorish  guards  who 
kept  it  fell  back  at  sight  of  him  with  looks  of  con- 
sternation. 

"  Israel!  "  cried  one,  and  dropped  his  lantern. 

Israel  whispered,  "  Keep  your  tongue  between 
your  teeth!  "  and  hurried  on. 

At  the  door  of  his  own  house,  which  was  also 
closed,  he  knocked  again,  but  more  fearfully.  The 
black  woman  Habeebah  opened  it  cautiously,  and, 
seeing  his  jellab,  she  clashed  it  back  in  his  face. 

"Habeebah!"  he  cried,  and  he  knocked  once 
more. 

Then  Ali  came  to  the  door.  "  What  Moorish 
man  are  you?  "  cried  Ali,  pushing  him  back  as  he 
pressed  forward. 

"Ali!     Hush!     It  is  I— Israel." 

Then  Ali  knew  him  and  cried,  "  God  save  us! 
What  has  happened?" 

"  What  has  happened  here?  "  said  Israel.  "  Na- 
omi," he  faltered,  "  what  of  her?  " 

"Then  you  have  heard?"  said  Ali.  "Thank 
God,  she  is  now  well."  Israel  laughed — his  laugh 
was  like  a  scream. 

■•  More  than  that — a  strange  thing  has  befallen 
her  since  you  went  away,"  said  Ali. 

"  What?  " 

"  She  can  hear." 

"  It's  a  lie!  "  cried  Israel,  and  he  raised  his  hand 
and  struck  Ali  to  the  floor.  But  at  the  next  minute 
he  was  lifting  him  up  and  sobbing  and  saying,  "  For- 
give me,  my  brave  hoy.     I  was  mad,  my  son;  I  did 


ISRAEL'S  HOME-COMING.  121 

not  know  what  I  was  doing.  But  do  not  torture  me. 
If  what  you  tell  me  is  true,  there  is  no  man  so  happy 
under  heaven;  hut  if  it  is  false,  there  is  no  fiend 
in  hell  need  envy  me." 

And  Ali  answered  through  his  tears,  "  It  is  true, 
my  father — come  and  see." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    BAPTISM    OF    SOUND. 

What  had  happened  at  Israel's  house  during  Is- 
rael's absence  is  a  story  that  may  be  quickly  told. 
On  the  day  of  his  departure  Naomi  wandered  from 
room  to  room,  seeming  to  seek  for  what  she  could 
not  find,  and  in  the  evening  the  black  women  came 
upon  her  in  the  upper  chamber  where  her  father 
had  read  to  her  at  sunset,  and  she  was  kneeling  by 
his  chair  and  the  book  was  in  her  hands. 

"  Look  at  her.  poor  child,"  said  Fatimah.  "  See, 
she  thinks  he  will  come  as  usual.  God  bless  her 
sweet  innocent  face!  " 

On  the  day  following  she  stole  out  of  the  house 
into  the  town  and  made  her  way  to  the  Kasbah,  and 
Ali  found  her  in  the  apartments  of  the  wife  of  the 
Bash  a,  who  had  lit  upon  her  as  she  seemed  to  ramble 
aimlessly  through  the  courtyard  from  the  Treasury 
to  the  Hall  of  Justice,  and  from  there  to  the  gate 
of  the  prison. 

The  next  day  after  that  she  did  not  attempt  to 
go  abroad,  and  neither  did  she  wander  through  the 
house,  but  sat  in  the  same  seat  constantly,  and 
seemed  to  be  waiting  patiently.  She  was  pale  and 
•  piiet  and  silent;  but  she  did  not  laugh  according 
to  her  wont,  and  she  had  a  look  of  submission  that 
was  very  touching  to  see. 
122 


THE  BAPTISM   OP  SOUND.  123 

"  Now  the  holy  saints  have  pity  on  the  sweet 
jewel,"  said  Fatimah.  "  How  long  will  she  wait, 
poor  darling?  " 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  following  that  her 
quiet  had  given  place  to  restlessness,  and  her  pallor 
to  a  burning  flush  of  the  face.  Her  hands  were  hot, 
her  head  was  feverish,  and  her  blind  eyes  were  blood- 
shot. 

It  was  now  plain  that  the  girl  was  ill,  and  that 
Israel's  fears  on  setting  out  from  home  had  been 
right  after  all.  And  making  his  own  reckoning 
with  Naomi's  condition,  Ali  went  off  for  the  only 
doctor  living  in  Tetuan — a  Spanish  druggist  living 
in  the  walled  lane  leading  to  the  western  gate.  This 
good  man  came  to  look  at  Naomi,  felt  her  pulse, 
touched  her  throbbing  forehead,  with  difficulty  ex- 
amined her  tongue,  and  pronounced  her  illness  to 
be  fever.  He  gave  some  homely  directions  as  to  her 
treatment — for  he  despaired  of  administering  drugs 
to  such  a  one  as  she  was — and  promised  to  return 
the  next  day. 

About  the  middle  of  that  night  Naomi  became 
delirious.  Fatimah  stood  constantly  by  her  bed, 
bathing  her  hot  forehead  with  vinegar  and  water; 
Habeebah  slept  in  a  chair  at  her  feet;  and  Ali 
crouched  in  a  corner  outside  the  door  of  her  room. 

The  druggist  came  in  the  morning,  according  to 
his  promise;  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done,  so 
he  looked  wise,  wagged  his  head  very  solemnly,  and 
said,  "  I  will  come  again  after  two  days  more,  when 
the  fever  must  be  near  to  its  height,  and  bring  a 
famous  leech  out  of  Tangier  along  with  me!  " 

Meantime,  Naomi's  delirium  continued.  It  was 
gentle  as  her  own  spirit,  but  there  was  this  that  was 


124  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

strange  and  eerie  about  her  unconsciousness — that 
whereas  she  had  been  dumb  while  her  mind  in  its 
dark  cell  must  have  been  mistress  of  itself  and  of 
her  soul,  she  spoke  without  ceasing  throughout  the 
time  of  her  reason's  vanquishment.  Not  that  her 
poor  tongue  in  its  trouble  uttered  speech  such  as 
those  that  heard  could  follow  and  understand,  but 
only  a  restless  babble  of  empty  sounds,  yet  with  tones 
of  varying  feeling,  sometimes  of  gladness,  sometimes 
of  sorrow,  sometimes  of  remonstrance,  and  some- 
times of  entreaty. 

All  that  night,  and  the  next  night  also,  the  two 
black  women  sat  together  by  her  bedside,  holding 
each  other's  hands  like  little  children  in  great  fear. 
Also  Ali  crouched  again  like  a  dog  in  the  darkness 
outside  the  door,  listening  in  terror  to  the  silvery 
young  voice  that  had  never  echoed  in  that  house 
before.  This  was  the  night  when  Israel,  sleeping 
at  the  squalid  inn  of  the  Jews  of  Wazan,  was  hear- 
ing Naomi's  voice  in  his  dreams. 

At  the  first  glint  of  daylight  in  the  morning  the 
lad  was  up  and  gone,  and  away  through  the  town- 
gate  to  the  heath  beyond,  as  far  as  to  the  fondak, 
which  stands  on  the  hill  above  it,  that  he  might 
strain  his  wet  eyes  in  the  pitiless  sunlight  for  Israel's 
caravan  that  should  soon  come.  On  the  first  morn- 
ing he  saw  nothing,  but  on  the  second  morning  he 
came  upon  Israel's  men  returning  without  him,  and 
telling  their  lying  story  that  he  had  been  stripped 
of  everything  by  the  Sultan  at  Fez,  and  was  coming 
behind  them  penniless. 

Now.  Israel  was  to  Ali  the  greatest,  noblest, 
mightiest  man  among  men.  That  he  should  fall 
was  incredible,  and  that  any  man  should  say  he  had 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  SOUND.  125 

fallen  was  an  affront  and  an  outrage.  So,  stripling 
as  he  was,  the  lad  faced  the  rascals  with  the  courage 
of  a  lion.  "Liars  and  thieves!"  he  cried;  "tell 
that  story  to  another  soul  in  Tetuan,  and  I  will  go 
straight  to  the  Kaid  at  the  Kasbah,  and  have  every 
black  dog  of  you  all  whipped  through  the  streets  for 
plundering  my  master." 

The  men  shouted  in  derision  and  passed  on,  fir- 
ing their  matchlocks  as  a  mock  salute.  But  Ali  had 
his  will  of  them;  they  told  their  tale  no  more,  and 
when  they  entered  Tetuan,  and  their  fellows  ques- 
tioned them  concerning  their  journey,  they  took 
refuge  in  the  reticence  that  sits  by  right  of  nature 
on  the  tongues  of  Moors — they  said  and  knew 
nothing. 

While  Ali  was  on  the  heath  looking  out  for  Is- 
rael, the  doctor  out  of  Tangier  came  to  Naomi.  The 
girl  was  still  unconscious,  and  the  wise  leech  shook 
his  head  over  her.  Her  case  was  hopeless;  she  was 
sinking — in  plain  words,  she  was  dying — and  if  her 
father  did  not  come  before  the  morrow  he  would 
come  too  late  to  find  her  alive. 

Then  the  black  women  fell  to  weeping  and  wail- 
ing, and  after  that  to  spiritual  conflict.  Both  were 
born  in  Islam,  but  Fatimah  had  secretly  become  a 
Jewess  by  persuasion  of  her  mistress  who  was  dead. 
She  was,  therefore,  for  sending  for  the  Chacham. 
But  Habeebah  had  remained  a  Muslim,  and  she  was 
for  calling  the  Imam.  "The  Imam  is  good,  the 
Imam  is  holy;  who  so  good  and  holy  as  the  Imam?  " 
"Nay,  but  our  Sidi  holds  not  with  the  Imam,  for 
our  lord  is  a  Jew,  and  our  lord  is  our  master,  our 
lord  is  our  sultan,  our  lord  is  our  king."  "  Shoof ! 
What  is  Sidi  against  paradise?    And  paradise  is  for 


126  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

her  who  makes  a  follower  of  Moosa  into  a  follower 
of  Mohammed.  Let  but  the  child  die  with  the  Kel- 
niah  on  her  lips,  and  we  are  all  three  blest  for  ever — 
otherwise  we  will  burn  everlastingly  in  the  fires  of 
Jehinnum."  "  But,  alack!  how  can  the  poor  girl 
say  the  Kelmah,  being  as  dumb  as  the  grave?" 
"  Then  how  can  she  say  the  Shemang  either?  " 

Having  heard  the  verdict  of  the  doctor,  Ali  re- 
turned in  hot  haste  and  silenced  both  the  bond- 
women: "The  Imam  is  a  villain,  and  the  Chacham 
is  a  thief."  There  was  only  one  good  man  left  in 
Tetuan,  and  that  was  his  own  Taleb,  his  schoolmas- 
ter, the  same  that  had  taught  him  the  harp  in  the 
days  of  the  Governor's  marriage.  This  person  was 
an  old  negro,  bewrinkled  by  years,  becrippled  by 
ague,  once  stone  deaf,  and  still  partially  so,  half 
blind,  and  reputed  to  be  only  half  wise,  a  liberated 
slave  from  the  Sahara,  just  able  to  read  the  Koran 
and  the  Torah,  and  willing  to  teach  either  impar- 
tially, according  to  his  knowledge,  for  he  was  neither 
a  Jew  nor  a  Muslim,  but  a  little  of  both,  as  he  used 
to  say,  and  not  too  much  of  either.  For  such  a 
hybrid  in  a  land  of  intolerance  there  must  have  been 
no  place  save  the  dungeons  of  the  Kasbah,  but  that 
this  good  nondescript  was  a  privileged  pet  of  every- 
body. In  his  dark  cellar,  down  an  alley  by  the  side 
of  the  Grand  Mosque  in  the  Mctamar,  he  had  sat 
from  early  morning  until  sunset,  year  in  year  out, 
through  thirty  years  on  his  rush-covered  floor, 
among  successive  generations  of  his  boys;  and  as 
often  as  night  fell  he  had  gone  hither  and  thither 
among  the  sick  and  dying,  carrying  comfort  of  kind 
words,  and  often  meat  and  drink  of  his  meagre  sub- 
stance. 


THE  BAPTISM  OP  SOUND.  127 

Such  was  Ali's  hero  after  Israel,  and  now,  in 
Israel's  absence  and  his  own  great  trouble,  he  hied 
away  for  him. 

"  Father."  cried  the  lad,  "  does  it  not  say  in  the 
good  book  that  the  prayer  of  a  righteous  man  avail- 
eth  much  ?  " 

"  It  does,  my  son,"  said  the  Taleb.  "  You  have 
truth.     What  then?" 

"  Then  if  you  will  pray  for  Naomi  she  will  re- 
cover," said  Ali. 

It  was  a  sweet  instance  of  simple  faith.  The  old 
black  Taleb  dismissed  his  scholars,  closed  down  his 
shutter,  locked  it  with  a  padlock,  hobbled  to  Naomi's 
bedside  in  his  tattered  white  selham,  looked  down 
at  her  through  the  big  spectacles  that  sprawled  over 
his  broad  black  nose,  and  then,  while  a  dim  mist 
floated  between  the  spectacles  and  his  eyes,  and  a 
great  lump  rose  at  his  throat  to  choke  him,  he  fell 
to  the  floor  and  prayed,  and  Ali  and  the  black  women 
knelt  beside  him. 

The  negro's  prayer  was  simple  to  childishness. 
It  told  God  everything;  it  recited  the  facts  to  the 
heavenly  Father  as  to  one  who  was  far  away  and 
might  not  know.  The  maiden  was  sick  unto  death. 
She  had  been  three  days  and  nights  knowing  no  one, 
and  eating  and  drinking  nothing.  She  was  blind 
and  dumb  and  deaf.  Her  father  loved  her  and  was 
wrapped  up  in  her.  She  was  his  only  child,  and  his 
wife  was  dead,  and  he  was  a  lonely  man.  He  was 
away  from  his  home  now,  and  if,  when  he  returned, 
the  girl  were  gone  and  lost — if  she  were  dead  and 
buried — his  strong  heart  would  be  broken  and  his 
very  soul  in  peril. 

Such  was  the  Taleb's  prayer,  and  such  was  the 


128  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

scene  of  it — the  dumb  angel  of  white  and  crimson 
turning  and  tossing  on  the  bed  in  an  aureole  of 
her  streaming  yellow  hair,  and  the  four  black  faces 
about  her,  eager  and  hot  and  aflame,  with  closed 
eyelids  and  open  lips,  calling  down  mercy  out  of 
heaven  from  the  God  that  might  be  seen  by  the  soul 
alone. 

And  so  it  was,  but  whether  by  chance  or  Provi- 
dence let  no  man  dare  to  tell,  that  even  while  the 
four  black  people  were  yet  on  their  knees  by  the 
bed,  the  turning  and  tossing  of  the  white  face  stopped 
suddenly,  and  Naomi  lay  still  on  her  pillow.  The 
hot  flush  faded  from  her  cheeks;  her  features,  which 
had  twitched,  were  quiet;  and  her  hands,  which  had 
been  restless,  lay  at  peace  on  the  counterpane. 

The  good  old  Talcb  took  this  for  an  answer  to  his 
prayer,  and  he  shouted  "  El  hamdu  lTllah!  "  (Praise 
be  to  God),  while  the  big  drops  coursed  down  the 
deep  furrows  of  his  streaming  face.  And  then,  as 
if  to  complete  the  miracle,  and  to  establish  the  old 
man's  faith  in  it,  a  strange  and  wondrous  thing  be- 
fell. First,  a  thin  watery  humour  flowed  from  one 
of  Naomi's  ears,  and  after  that  she  raised  herself 
on  her  elbow.  Her  eyes  were  open  as  if  they  saw; 
her  lips  were  parted  as  though  they  were  breaking 
into  a  smile;  she  made  a  long  sigh  like  one  who  has 
slept  softly  through  the  night  and  has  just  awakened 
in  the  morning. 

Then,  while  the  black  people  held  their  breath 
in  their  first  moment  of  surprise  and  gladness,  her 
parted  lips  gave  forth  a  sound.  It  was  a  laugh — 
a  faint,  broken,  bankrupt  echo  of  her  old  happy 
laughter.  And  then  instantly,  almost  before  the 
others  had  heard  the  sound,  and  while  the  notes  of 


THE  BAPTISM  OP  SOUND.  129 

it  were  yet  coming  from  her  tongue,  she  lifted  her 
idle  hand  and  covered  her  ear,  and  over  her  face 
there  passed  a  look  of  dread. 

So  swift  had  this  change  been  that  the  bond- 
women had  not  seen  it,  and  they  were  shouting 
"Hallelujah!"  with  one  voice,  thinking  only  that 
she  who  had  been  dead  to  them  was  alive  again. 
But  the  old  Taleb  cried  eagerly,  "Hush!  my  chil- 
dren, hush!  What  is  coming  is  a  marvellous  thing! 
I  know  what  it  is — who  knows  so  well  as  I?  Once 
I  was  deaf,  my  children,  but  now  I  hear.  Listen! 
The  maiden  has  had  fever — fever  of  the  brain. 
Listen!  A  watery  humour  had  gathered  in  her  head. 
It  has  gone;  it  has  flowed  away.  Now  she  will  hear. 
Listen,  for  it  is  I  that  know  it — who  knows  it  so 
well  as  I?  Yes;  she  will  be  no  longer  deaf.  Her 
ears  will  be  opened.  She  will  hear.  Once  she  was 
living  in  a  land  of  silence;  now  she  is  coming  into 
the  land  of  sound.  Blessed  be  God,  for  He  has 
wrought  this  wondrous  work.  God  is  great!  God  is 
mighty!  Praise  the  merciful  God  for  ever!  El  ham- 
du  Flilah!  " 

And  marvellous  and  passing  belief  as  the  old 
Taleb's  story  seemed  to  be,  it  appeared  to  be  coming 
to  pass,  for  even  while  he  spoke,  beginning  in  a  slow 
whisper  and  going  on  with  quicker  and  louder  breath, 
Naomi  turned  her  face  full  upon  him;  and  when 
the  black  women,  in  their  ready  faith,  joined  in  his 
shouts  of  praise,  she  turned  her  face  towards  them 
also;  and  wherever  a  voice  sounded  in  the  room 
she  inclined  her  head  towards  it  as  one  who  knew 
the  direction  of  the  sounds,  and  also  as  one  who  was 
in  fear  of  them. 

But,  seeing  nothing  of  her  look  of  pain,  and 


130  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

knowing  nothing  but  one  thing  only,  and  that  was 
the  wondrous  and  mighty  change  that  she  who  had 
been  deaf  could  now  hear,  that  she  who  had  never 
before  heard  speech  now  heard  their  voices  as  they 
spoke  around  her,  Ali,  in  his  frantic  delight  laughing 
and  crying  together,  his  white  teeth  aglitter,  and 
his  round  black  face  shining  with  tears,  began  to 
shout  and  to  sing,  and  to  dance  around  the  bed  in 
wild  joy  at  the  miracle  which  God  had  wrought  in 
answer  to  his  old  Taleb's  prayer.  No  heed  did  he 
pay  to  the  Taleb's  cries  of  warning,  but  danced  on 
and  on,  and  neither  did  the  bondwomen  see  the  old 
man's  uplifted  arms  or  his  big  lips  pursed  out  in 
hushes,  so  overpowered  were  they  with  their  delight, 
so  startled  and  so  joy-drunken.  But  over  their  tu- 
mult there  came  a  wild  outburst  of  piercing  shrieks. 
They  were  the  cries  of  Naomi  in  her  blind  and  sud- 
den terror  at  the  first  sounds  that  had  reached  her 
of  human  voices.  Her  face  was  blanched,  her  eyelids 
were  trembling,  her  lips  were  restless,  her  nostrils 
quivered,  her  whole  being  seemed  to  be  overcome 
by  a  vertigo  of  dread,  and,  in  the  horrible  disarray 
of  all  her  sensations,  her  brain,  on  its  wakening  from 
its  dolorous  sleep  of  three  delirious  days,  was  tot- 
tering and  reeling  at  its  welcome  in  this  world  of 
noise. 

Then  Ali  ended  suddenly  his  frantic  dance,  the 
bondwomen  held  their  peace  in  an  instant,  and  blank 
silence  in  the  chamber  followed  the  clamour  of 
tongues. 

It  was  at  this  great  moment  that  Israel,  return- 
ing from  his  journey  in  the  jellab  of  a  Moor,  knocked 
like  a  stranger  at  his  outer  door.  When  he  entered 
the  chamber,  still  clad  as  a  torn  and  ragged  man, 


THE  BAPTISM  OP  SOUND.  131 

too  eager  to  remove  the  sorry  garments  which  had 
been  given  to  him  on  the  way,  Naomi  was  resting 
against  the  pillar  of  the  bed.  He  saw  that  her  coun- 
tenance was  changed,  and  that  every  feature  of  her 
face  seemed  to  listen.  No  longer  was  it  as  the  face 
of  a  lamb  that  is  simple  and  content,  neither  was  it 
as  the  face  of  a  child  that  is  peaceful  and  happy; 
but  it  was  hot  and  perplexed.  Fear  sat  on  her  face, 
and  wonder  and  questioning;  and  as  Fatimah  stood 
by  her  side,  speaking  tender  words  to  comfort  her, 
no  cheer  did  she  seem  to  get  from  them,  but  only 
dread,  for  she  drew  away  from  her  when  she  spoke, 
as  though  the  sound  of  the  voice  smote  her  ears  with 
terror  of  trouble.  All  this  Israel  saw  on  the  instant, 
and  then  his  sight  grew  dim,  his  heart  beat  as  if  it 
would  kill  him,  a  thick  mist  seemed  to  cover  every- 
thing, and  through  the  dense  waves  of  semi-con- 
sciousness he  heard  the  dull  hum  of  Fatimah's  muf- 
fled voice  coming  to  him  as  from  far  away. 

"My  pretty  Naomi!  My  little  heart!  My  sweet 
jewel  of  gold  and  silver!  It  is  nothing!  Nothing! 
Look!  See!  Her  father  has  come  back!  Her  dear 
father  has  come  back  to  her!  " 

Presently  the  room  ceased  to  go  round  and  round, 

and  Israel  knew  that  Naomi's  arms  surrounded  him, 

that  his  own  arms  enlaced  her,  and  that  her  head 

was  pressed  hard  against  his  bosom.    Yes,  it  was  she! 

It  was  Naomi!    Ali  had  told  him  truth.     She  lived! 

She  was  well!     She  could  hear!     The  old  hope  that 

had  chirped  in  his  soul  was  justified,  and  the  dear 

delicious  dream  was  come  true.    Oh!  God  was  great, 

God  was  good,  God  had  given  him  more  than  he  had 

asked  or  deserved! 

Thus    for   some    minutes   he    stood    motionless, 
10 


132  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

blessing  the  God  of  Jacob,  yet  uttering  no  words, 
for  his  heart  was  too  full  for  speech,  only  holding 
Naomi  closely  to  him,  while  his  tears  fell  on  her 
blind  face.  And  the  black  people  in  the  chamber 
wept  to  see  it,  that  not  more  dumb  in  that  great 
hour  of  gladness  was  she  who  was  born  so  than  he  to 
whose  house  had  come  the  wonderful  work  that  God 
had  wrought. 

No  heed  had  Israel  given  yet  to  the  bodeful  signs 
in  Naomi's  face,  in  joy  over  such  as  were  joyful. 
When  he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms  she  had  known 
him,  and  she  had  clung  to  him  in  her  glad  surprise. 
But  when  she  continued  to  lie  on  his  bosom  it  was 
not  only  because  he  was  her  father  and  she  loved 
him,  and  because  he  had  been  lost  to  her  and  was 
found,  it  was  also  because  he  alone  was  silent  of  all 
them  that  were  about  her. 

When  he  saw  this  his  heart  was  humbled;  but 
he  understood  her  fears,  that,  coming  out  of  a  land 
of  great  silence,  where  the  voice  of  man  was  never 
heard,  where  the  air  was  songless  as  the  air  of 
dreams  and  darkling  as  the  air  of  a  tomb,  her  soul 
misgave  her,  and  her  spirit  trembled  in  a  new  world 
of  strange  sounds.  For  what  was  the  ear  but  a  little 
dark  chamber,  a  vault,  a  dungeon  in  a  castle,  wherein 
the  soul  was  ever  passing  to  and  fro,  asking  for 
news  of  the  world  without?  Through  seventeen 
dark  and  silent  years  the  soul  of  Naomi  had  been 
passing  and  repassing  within  its  beautiful  tabernacle 
of  flesh,  crying  daily  and  hourly,  "Watchman,  what 
of  the  world?"  At  length  it  had  found  an  answer, 
and  it  was  terrified.  The  world  had  spoken  to  her 
soul,  and  its  voice  was  like  the  reverberations  of  a 
subterranean  cavern,  strange  and  deep  and  awful. 


THE  BAPTISM   OF   SOUND.  133 

In  that  first  moment  of  Israel's  consciousness 
after  he  entered  the  room,  all  four  black  folks  seemed 
to  be  speaking  together. 

Ali  was  saying,  "  Father,  those  dogs  and  thieves 
of  tentmen  and  muleteers  returned  yesterday,  and 
said " 

And  the  bondwomen  were  crying,  "  Sidi,  you 
were  right  when  you  went  away!"  "Yes,  the  dear 
child  was  ill! ';  "  Oh,  how  she  missed  you  when  you 
were  gone! ';  "  She  has  been  delirious,  and  the  doc- 
tor, the  son  of  Tetuan " 

And  the  old  Taleb  was  muttering,  "  Master,  it  is 
all  by  God's  mercy.  We  prayed  for  the  life  of  the 
maiden,  and  lo!  He  has  given  us  this  gateway  to  her 
spirit  as  well." 

Then  Israel  saw  that  as  their  voices  entered  the 
dark  vault  of  Naomi's  ears  they  startled  and  dis- 
tressed her.  So,  to  pacify  her,  he  motioned  them 
out  of  the  chamber.  They  went  away  without  a 
word.  The  reason  of  Naomi's  fears  began  to  dawn 
upon  them.  An  awe  seemed  to  be  cast  over  her  by 
the  solemnity  of  that  great  moment.  It  was  like  to 
the  birth-moment  of  a  soul. 

And  when  the  black  people  were  gone  from  the 
room,  Israel  closed  the  door  of  it  that  he  might  shut 
out  the  noises  of  the  streets,  for  women  were  calling 
to  their  children  without,  and  the  children  were  still 
shouting  in  their  play.  This  being  done,  he  returned 
to  Naomi  and  rested  her  head  against  his  bosom 
and  soothed  her  with  his  hand,  and  she  put  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  clung  to  him.  And  while  he  did 
so  his  heart  yearned  to  speak  to  her,  and  to  see  by 
her  face  that  she  could  hear.  Let  it  be  but  one  word, 
only  one,  that  she  might  know  her  father's  voice — 


134  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

for  she  had  never  once  heard  it — and  answer  it  with 
a  smile. 

"Daughter!  My  dearest!  My  darling!  " 
Only  this,  nothing  more!  Only  one  sweet  word 
of  all  the  unspoken  tenderness  which,  like  a  river 
without  any  outlet,  had  heen  seventeen  years  damned 
up  in  his  breast.  But  no,  it  could  not  be.  He  must 
not  speak  lest  her  face  should  frown  and  her  arms 
be  drawn  away.  To  see  that  would  break  his  heart. 
Nevertheless,  he  wrestled  with  the  temptation.  It 
was  terrible.  He  dared  not  risk  it.  So  he  sat  on 
the  bed  in  silence,  hardly  moving,  scarcely  breathing 
— a  dust-laden  man  in  a  ragged  jellab,  holding  Na- 
omi in  his  arms. 

It  was  still  the  month  of  Ramadhan.  and  the  sun 
was  but  three  hours  set.  In  the  fondak  called  El 
Oosaa,  a  group  of  the  town  Moors,  who  had  fasted 
through  the  day,  were  feasting  and  carousing.  Over 
the  walls  of  the  Mellah,  from  the  direction  of  the 
Spanish  inn  at  the  entrance  to  the  little  tortuous 
quarter  of  the  shoemakers,  there  came  at  intervals 
a  hubbub  of  voices,  and  occasionally  wild  shouts  and 
cries.  The  day  was  Wednesday,  the  market-day  of 
Tetuan,  and  on  the  open  space  called  the  Feddan 
many  fires  were  lighted  at  the  mouths  of  tents,  and 
men  and  women  and  children — country  Arabs  and 
Berbers — were  squatting  around  the  charcoal  em- 
bers, eating  and  drinking  and  talking  and  laughing, 
while  the  ruddy  glow  lit  up  their  swarthy  faces  in 
the  darkness.  But  presently  the  wing  of  night  fell 
over  both  Moorish  town  and  Mellah;  the  traffic  of 
the  streets  came  to  an  end;  the  "  Balak  "  of  the  ass- 
driver  was  no  more  heard,  the  slipper  of  the  Jew 
sounded  but  rarely  on  the  pavement,  the  fires  on  the 


A  Street  in  Tangier. 


THE  BAPTISM   OF  SOUND.  135 

Feddtin  died  out,  the  hubbub  of  the  fondak  and  the 
wild  shouts  of  the  shoemakers'  quarter  were  hushed, 
and  quieter  and  more  quiet  grew  the  air  until  all 
was  still. 

At  the  coming  of  peace  Naomi's  fears  seemed  to 
abate.  Her  clinging  arms  released  their  hold  of 
her  father's  neck,  and  with  a  trembling  sigh  she 
dropped  back  on  to  the  pillow.  And  in  this  hour  of 
stillness  she  would  have  slept;  but  even  while  Israel 
was  lifting  up  his  heart  in  thankfulness  to  God,  that 
He  was  making  the  way  of  her  great  journey  easy 
out  of  the  land  of  silence  into  the  land  of  speech, 
a  storm  broke  over  the  town.  Through  many  hot 
days  preceding  it  had  been  gathering  in  the  air, 
which  had  the  echoing  hollowness  of  a  vault.  It 
was  loud  and  long  and  terrible.  First  from  the  di- 
rection of  Marteel,  over  the  four  miles  which  divide 
Tetuan  from  the  coast,  came  the  warning  which  the 
sea  sends  before  trouble  comes  to  the  land — a  deep 
moan  as  of  waters  falling  from  the  sky.  Next  came 
the  moan  of  the  wind  down  the  valley  that  opens 
on  the  gate  called  the  Bab  el  Marsa,  and  along  the 
river  that  flows  to  the  port.  Then  came  the  roll 
of  thunder,  like  a  million  cannons,  down  the  gorges 
of  the  Eeef  mountains  and  across  the  plain  that 
stretches  far  away  to  Kitan.  Last  of  all,  the  black 
clouds  of  the  sky  emptied  themselves  over  the  town, 
and  the  rain  fell  in  floods  on  the  roof  of  the  house 
and  on  the  pavement  of  the  patio,  and  leapt  up  again 
in  great  loud  drops,  making  a  noise  to  the  ear  like 
to  the  tramp,  tramp,  tramp  of  a  hidden  multitude. 
Thus  sound  after  sound  broke  over  the  darkness  of 
the  night  in  a  thousand  awful  voices,  now  near,  now 
far,  now  loud,  now  low,  now  long,  now  short,  now 


136  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

rising,  now  falling,  now  rushing,  now  running — a 
mighty  tumult  and  a  fearsome  anarchy. 

At  last  Naomi's  terror  was  redoubled.  Every 
sound  seemed  to  smite  her  body  as  a  blow.  Hither- 
to she  had  known  one  sense  only,  the  sense  of  touch, 
and  though  now  she  knew  the  sense  of  hearing  also, 
she  continued  to  refer  all  sensations  to  feeling.  At 
the  sound  of  the  sea  she  put  out  her  arms  before 
her;  and  at  the  sound  of  the  wind  she  buried  her 
face  in  her  palms;  and  at  the  sound  of  the  thunder 
she  lifted  her  hands  as  if  to  protect  her  head. 

Meanwhile,  Israel  sat  beside  her  and  cherished 
her  close  at  his  bosom.  He  yearned  to  speak  words 
of  comfort  to  her,  soft  words  of  cheer,  tender  words 
of  love,  gentle  words  of  hope. 

"  Be  not  afraid,  my  daughter!  It  is  only  the 
wind,  it  is  only  the  rain;  it  is  only  the  thunder. 
Once  you  loved  to  run  and  race  in  them.  They  shall 
not  harm  you,  for  God  is  good,  and  He  will  keep 
you  safe.  There,  there,  my  little  heart!  See,  your 
father  is  with  you.  He  will  guard  you.  Fear  not, 
my  child,  fear  not!  " 

Such  were  the  words  which  Israel  yearned  to 
speak  in  Naomi's  ears,  but,  alas!  what  words  could 
she  understand  any  more  than  the  wind  which 
moaned  about  the  house  and  the  thunder  which 
rolled  overhead?  And  again  and  again,  alas!  as  sure- 
ly as  he  spoke  to  her  she  must  shrink  from  the  solace 
of  his  voice  even  as  she  shrank  from  the  tumult  of 
the  voices  of  the  storm. 

Israel  fell  back  helpless  and  heartbroken.  He 
began  to  see  in  its  fulness  the  change  which  had 
befallen  Naomi,  yet  not  at  once  to  realise  it,  so 
sudden  and  so  numbing  was  the  stroke.     He  began 


THE  BAPTISM   OF  SOUND.  137 

to  know  that  with  the  mighty  blessing  for  which 
he  had  hoped  and  prayed — the  blessing  of  a  path- 
way to  his  daughter's  soul — a  misfortune  had  come 
as  well.  What  was  it  to  him  now  that  Naomi  had 
ears  to  hear  if  she  could  not  understand?  And  what 
was  this  tempest  to  the  maiden  new-born  out  of  the 
land  of  silence  into  the  world  of  sound,  yet  still  both 
blind  and  dumb,  but  a  circle  of  darkness  alive  with 
creatures  that  groaned  and  cried  and  shrieked  and 
moved  around  her? 

Thus  nothing  could  Israel  do  but  watch  the 
creeping  of  Naomi's  terror,  and  smooth  her  forehead 
and  chafe  her  hands.  And  this  he  did,  until  at 
length,  in  a  fresh  outbreak  of  the  storm,  when  the 
vault  of  the  heavens  seemed  rent  asunder,  a  strong 
delirium  took  hold  of  her,  and  she  fell  into  a  long 
unconsciousness.  Then  Israel  held  back  his  heart 
no  longer,  but  wept  above  her,  and  called  to  her,  and 
cried  aloud  upon  her  name — 

"Naomi!  Naomi!  My  poor  child!  My  dearest! 
Hear  me!  It  is  nothing!  nothing!  Listen!  It  is 
gone!    Gone!  " 

With  such  passionate  cries  of  love  and  sorrow, 
Israel  gave  vent  to  his  soul  in  its  trouble.  And  while 
Naomi  lay  in  her  unconsciousness,  he  knew  not  what 
feelings  possessed  him,  for  his  heart  was  in  a  great 
turmoil.  Desolate!  desolate!  All  was  desolate!  His 
high-built  hopes  were  in  ashes! 

Sometimes  he  remembered  the  days  when  the 
child  knew  no  sorrow,  and  when  grief  came  not  near 
her,  when  she  was  brighter  than  the  sun  which 
she  could  not  see  and  swreeter  than  the  songs  which 
she  could  not  hear,  when  she  was  joyous  as  a  bird 
in  its  narrow  cage  and  fretted  not  at  the  bars  which 


138  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

bound  her,  when  she  laughed  as  she  braided  her  hair 
and  came  dancing  out  of  her  chamber  at  dawn.  And, 
remembering  this,  he  looked  down  at  her  knitted 
face,  and  his  heart  grew  bitter,  and  he  lifted  up  his 
voice  through  the  tumult  of  the  storm,  and  cried 
again  on  the  God  of  Jacob,  and  rebuked  Him  for  the 
marvellous  work  which  He  had  wrought. 

If  God  were  an  almighty  God,  surely  He  looked 
before  and  after,  and  foresaw  what  must  come  to 
pass.  And,  foreseeing  and  knowing  all,  why  had 
God  answered  his  prayer?  He  himself  had  been  a 
fool.  Why  had  he  craved  God's  pity?  Once  his 
poor  child  was  blither  than  the  panther  of  the  wilder- 
ness and  happier  than  the  young  lamb  that  sports 
in  springtime.  If  she  was  blind,  she  knew  not  what 
it  was  to  see;  and  if  she  was  deaf,  she  knew  not  what 
it  was  to  hear;  and  if  she  was  dumb,  she  knew  not 
what  it  was  to  speak.  Nothing  did  she  miss  of  sight 
or  sound  or  speech  any  more  than  of  the  wings  of  the 
eagle  or  the  dove.  Yet  he  would  not  be  content;  he 
would  not  be  appeased.  Oh!  subtlety  of  the  devil 
which  had  brought  this  evil  upon  him! 

But  the  God  whom  Israel  in  his  agony  and  his 
madness  rebuked  in  this  manner  sent  His  angel  to 
make  a  great  silence,  and  the  storm  lapsed  to  a 
breathless  quiet. 

And  when  the  tempest  was  gone  Naomi's  deliri- 
um passed  away.  She  seemed  to  look,  and  nothing 
could  she  see;  and  then  to  listen,  and  nothing  could 
she  hear;  and  then  she  clasped  the  hand  of  her 
father  that  lay  over  her  hand,  and  sighed  and  sank 
down  again. 

"Ah!" 

It  was  even  as  if  peace  had  come  to  her  with  the 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  SOUND.  139 

thought  that  she  was  back  in  the  land  of  great  silence 
once  again,  and  that  the  voices  which  had  startled 
her,  and  the  storm  which  had  terrified  her,  had  been 
nothing  but  an  evil  dream. 

In  that  sweet  respite  she  fell  asleep,  and  Israel 
forgot  the  reproaches  with  which  he  had  reproached 
his  God,  and  looked  tenderly  down  at  her,  and  said 
within  himself,  "  It  was  her  baptism.  Now  she  will 
walk  the  world  with  confidence,  and  never  again 
will  she  be  afraid.  Truly  the  Lord  our  God  is  king 
over  all  kingdoms  and  wise  beyond  all  wisdom! '; 

Then,  with  one  look  backward  at  Naomi  where 
she  slept,  he  crept  out  of  the  room  on  tiptoe. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 
naomi's  great  gift. 

With  the  coming  of  the  gift  of  hearing,  the  other 
gifts  with  which  Naomi  had  been  gifted  in  her  deaf- 
ness, and  the  strange  graces  with  which  she  had 
been  graced,  seemed  suddenly  to  fall  from  her  as  a 
garment  when  she  disrobed. 

It  seemed  as  though  her  old  sense  of  touch  had 
become  confused  by  her  new  sense  of  hearing.  She 
lost  her  way  in  her  father's  house,  and  though  she 
could  now  hear  footsteps,  she  did  not  appear  to 
know  who  approached.  They  led  her  into  the 
street,  into  the  Feddan,  into  the  walled  lane  to  the 
great  gate,  into  the  steep  arcades  leading  to  the 
Kasbah;  and  no  more  as  of  old  did  she  thread  her 
way  through  the  people,  seeming  to  see  them  through 
the  flesh  of  her  face  and  to  salute  them  with  the 
laugh  on  her  lips,  but  only  followed  on  and  on  with 
helpless  footsteps.  They  took  her  to  the  hill  above 
the  battery,  and  her  breath  came  quick  as  she  trod 
the  familiar  ways:  but  when  she  was  come  to  the 
summit,  no  longer  did  she  exult  in  her  lofty  place 
and  drink  new  life  from  the  rush  of  mighty  winds 
about  her,  but  only  quaked  like  a  child  in  terror  as 
she  faced  the  world  unseen  beneath  and  hearkened 
to  the  voices  rising  out  of  it,  and  heard  the  breeze 
that  had  once  laved  her  cheeks  now  screaming  in  her 
140 


NAOMI'S  GREAT  GIFT.  141 

ears.  They  gave  Ali's  harp  into  her  hands,  the  same 
that  she  had  played  so  strangely  at  the  Kasbah  on 
the  marriage  of  Ben  Aboo;  but  never  again  as  on 
that  day  did  she  sweep  the  strings  to  wild  rhapsodies 
of  sound  such  as  none  had  heard  before  and  none 
could  follow,  but  only  touched  and  fumbled  them 
with  deftless  fingers  that  knew  no  music. 

She  lost  her  old  power  to  guide  her  footsteps 
and  to  minister  to  her  pleasures  and  to  cherish  her 
affections.  No  longer  did  she  seem  to  communicate 
with  Nature  by  other  organs  than  did  the  rest  of 
the  human  kind.  She  was  a  radiant  and  joyous 
spirit-maid  no  more,  but  only  a  beautiful  blind  girl, 
a  sweet  human  sister  that  was  weak  and  faint. 

Nevertheless,  Israel  recked  nothing  of  her  weak- 
ness, for  joy  at  the  loss  of  those  powers  over  which 
his  enemies  throughout  seventeen  evil  years  had 
bleated  and  barked  "Beelzebub!"  And  if  God  in 
His  mercy  had  taken  the  angel  out  of  his  house,  so 
strangely  gifted,  so  strangely  joyful,  He  had  given 
him  instead,  for  the  hunger  of  his  heart  as  a  man, 
a  sweet  human  daughter,  however  helpless  and  frail. 

Thus  in  the  first  days  of  Naomi's  great  change 
Israel  was  content.  But  day  by  day  this  content- 
ment left  him,  and  he  was  haunted  by  strange  sink- 
ings of  the  heart.  Naomi's  frailty  appeared  to  be 
not  only  of  the  body  but  also  of  the  spirit.  It  seemed 
as  if  her  soul  had  suddenly  fallen  asleep.  She  be- 
trayed neither  joy  nor  sorrow.  No  sound  escaped 
her  lips;  no  thought  for  herself  or  for  others  seemed 
to  animate  her.  She  neither  laughed  nor  wept. 
"When  Israel  kissed  her  pale  brow,  she  did  not  stretch 
out  her  arms  as  she  had  done  before  to  draw  down 
his  head  to  her  lips.     Calmly,  silently,  sadly,  grace- 


142  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

fully,  she  passed  from  day  to  day,  without  feeling 
and  without  thought — a  beautiful  statue  of  flesh  and 
blood. 

What  God  was  doing  with  her  slumbering  spirit 
then,  only  He  Himself  knows;  but  the  time  of  her 
awakening  came,  and  with  it  came  her  first  delight 
in  the  new  gift  with  which  God  had  gifted  her. 

To  revive  her  spirits  and  to  quicken  her  mem- 
ory, Israel  had  taken  her  to  walk  in  the  fields  out- 
side the  town  where  she  had  loved  to  play  in  her 
childhood — the  wild  places  covered  with  the  pepper- 
mint and  the  pink,  the  thyme,  the  marjoram,  and 
the  white  broom,  where  she  had  gathered  flowers  in 
the  old  times,  when  God  had  taught  her.  The  day 
was  sweet,  for  it  was  the  cool  of  the  morning,  the 
air  was  soft,  and  the  wind  was  gentle,  and  under 
the  shady  trees  the  covert  of  the  reeds  lay  quiet. 
And  whither  Naomi  would,  thither  they  had  wan- 
dered, without  object  and  without  direction. 

On  and  on,  hand  in  hand,  they  had  walked 
through  the  winding  paths  of  the  oleander,  between 
the  creeping  fences  of  the  broom,  and  the  sprawling 
limbs  of  the  prickly  pear,  until  they  came  to  a  stream, 
a  tributary  of  the  Marteel,  trickling  down  from  the 
wild  heights  of  the  Akhmas,  over  the  light  pebbles 
of  its  narrow  bend.  And  there — but  by  what  im- 
pulse or  what  chance  Israel  never  knew — Naomi 
had  withdrawn  her  band  from  his  hand;  and  at  the 
next  moment,  in  scarcely  more  time  than  it  took  him 
to  stoop  to  the  ground  and  rise  again,  suddenly,  as 
if  she  had  sunk  into  the  earth,  or  been  lifted  into 
the  sky,  Naomi  disappeared  from  his  sight. 

Israel  pushed  the  low  boughs  apart,  expecting  to 
find  her  by  his  side,  but  she  was  nowhere  near.    He 


NAOMI'S  GREAT  GIFT.  143 

called  her  by  her  name,  thinking  she  would  answer 
with  the  only  language  of  her  lips,  the  old  language 
of  her  laugh. 

;'  Naomi!  Naomi!  Come,  come,  my  child,  where 
are  you  ?  " 

But  no  sound  came  back  to  him. 

Again  he  called,  not  as  before  in  a  tone  of  re- 
monstrance, but  with  a  voice  of  fear. 

"Naomi,  Naomi!  Where  are  you?  where? 
where  ?  " 

Then  he  listened  and  waited,  yet  heard  nothing, 
neither  her  laugh  nor  the  rustle  of  her  robe,  nor  the 
light  beat  of  her  footstep. 

Nevertheless,  she  had  passed  over  the  grass  from 
the  spot  where  she  had  left  him,  without  wayward- 
ness or  thought  of  evil,  only  missing  his  hand  and 
trying  to  recover  it,  then  becoming  afraid  and  walk- 
ing rapidly,  until  the  dense  foliage  between  them 
had  hidden  her  from  sight  and  deadened  the  sound 
of  his  voice. 

Opening  a  way  between  the  long  leaves  of  an 
aloe,  Israel  found  her  at  length  in  the  place  where- 
to she  had  wandered.  It  was  a  short  bend  of  the 
brook,  where  dark  old  trees  overshadowed  the  water 
with  forest  gloom.  She  was  seated  on  the  trunk 
of  a  fallen  oak,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  sat  her- 
self down  to  weep  in  her  dumb  trouble,  for  her  blind 
eyes  were  still  wet  with  tears.  The  river  was  mur- 
muring at  her  feet;  an  old  olive-tree  over  her  head 
was  pattering  with  its  multitudinous  tongues;  the 
little  family  of  a  squirrel  was  chirping  by  her  side, 
and  one  tiny  creature  of  the  brood  was  squirling  up 
her  dress:  a  thrush  was  swinging  itself  on  the  low 
bough  of  the  olive  and  singing  as  it  swung,  and  a 


144  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

sheep  of  solemn  face — gaunt  and  grim  and  ancient 
— was  standing  and  palpitating  before  her.  Bees 
were  humming,  grasshoppers  were  buzzing,  the  light 
wind  was  whispering,  and  cattle  were  lowing  in  the 
distance.  The  air  of  that  sweet  spot  in  that  sweet 
hour  was  musical  with  every  sweet  sound  of  the 
earth  and  sky,  and  fragrant  with  all  the  wild  odours 
of  the  wood. 

"  My  darling,"  cried  Israel  in  the  first  outburst 
of  his  relief,  and  then  he  paused  and  looked  at  her 
again. 

The  wet  eyes  were  open,  and  they  appeared  to 
see,  so  radiant  was  the  light  that  shone  in  them. 
A  tender  smile  played  about  her  mouth;  her  head  was 
held  forward;  her  nostrils  quivered;  and  her  cheeks 
were  flushed.  She  had  pushed  her  hat  back  from 
her  head,  and  her  yellow  hair  had  fallen  over  her 
neck  and  breast.  One  of  her  hands  covered  one 
ear,  and  the  other  strayed  among  the  plants  that 
grew  on  the  bank  beside  her.  She  seemed  to  be 
listening  intently,  eagerly,  rapturously.  A  rare  and 
radiant  joy,  a  pure  and  tender  delight,  appeared  to 
gush  out  of  her  beautiful  face.  It  was  almost  as 
though  she  believed  that  everything  she  heard  with 
the  great  new  gift  which  God  had  given  her  was 
speaking  to  her,  and  bidding  her  welcome  and  offer- 
ing her  love:  as  if  the  garrulous  old  olive  over  her 
head  were  stretching  down  his  arms  to  sport  with 
her  hair,  and  pattering,  "  Kiss  me,  little  one!  kiss 
me,  sweet  one!  kiss  me!  kiss  me!  " — as  if  the  rip- 
pling river  at  her  feet  were  laughing  and  crying, 
"Catch  me,  naked  feet!  catch  me,  catch  me!" — as 
if  the  thrush  on  the  bough  were  singing,  "  Where 
from,  sunny  locks?  where  from?  where  from?" — as 


NAOMI'S  GREAT  GIFT.  145 

if  the  young  squirrel  were  chirping,  "  I'm  not  afraid, 
not  afraid,  not  afraid!  "  and  as  if  the  grey  old  sheep 
were  breathing  slowly,  "  Pat  me,  little  maiden!  you 
may,  you  may!  " 

"  God  bless  her  beautiful  face!  "  cried  Israel. 
"  She  listens  with  every  feature  and  every  line  of  it." 

It  was  the  awakening  of  her  soul  to  the  soul  of 
music,  and  from  that  day  forward  she  took  pleas- 
ure in  all  sweet  and  gentle  sounds  whatsoever — in 
the  voices  of  children  at  play — in  the  bleat  of  the 
goat — in  the  footsteps  of  them  she  loved — in  the 
hiss  and  whirr  of  her  mother's  old  spinning-wheel, 
which  now  she  learned  to  work — and  in  Ali's  harp, 
when  he  played  it  in  the  patio  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening. 

But  even  as  no  eye  can  see  how  the  seed  which 
has  been  sown  in  the  ground  first  dies  and  then 
springs  into  life,  so  no  tongue  can  tell  what  change 
was  wrought  in  the  pure  soul  of  Naomi  when,  after 
her  baptism  of  sound,  the  sweet  voices  of  earth  first 
entered  it.  Neither  she  herself  nor  any  one  else 
ever  fully  realised  what  that  change  was,  for  it  was 
a  beautiful  and  holy  mystery.  It  was  also  a  great 
joy,  and  she  seemed  to  give  herself  up  to  it.  No 
music  ever  escaped  her,  and  of  all  human  music  she 
took  most  pleasure  in  the  singing  of  love  songs. 
These  she  listened  to  with  a  simple  and  rapt  delight; 
their  joy  seemed  to  answer  to  her  joy,  and  the  joy- 
ousness  of  a  song  of  love  seemed  to  gather  in  the  air 
wheresoever  she  went. 

There  were  few  of  the  kind  she  ever  heard,  and 
few  of  that  few  were  beautiful,  and  none  were  beau- 
tifully sung.  Fatimah's  homely  ditties  were  all  she 
knew,  the  same  that  had  been  crooned  to  her  a  thou- 


146  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

sand  times  when  she  had  not  heard.  Most  of  these 
were  songs  of  the  desert  and  the  caravan,  telling  of 
musk  and  ambergris,  and  odorous  locks  and  dancing 
cypress,  and  liquid  ruby,  and  lips  like  wine;  and 
some  were  warm  tales  which  the  good  soul  herself 
hardly  understood,  of  enchanting  beauties  whose  si- 
lence was  the  door  of  consent,  and  of  wanton  nymphs 
whose  love  tore  the  veil  of  their  chastity. 

But  one  of  them  was  a  song  of  pure  and  true 
passion  that  seemed  to  be  the  yearning  cry  of  a  hun- 
gering, unfilled,  unsatisfied  heart  to  call  down  love 
out  of  the  skies,  or  else  be  carried  up  to  it.  This  had 
been  a  favourite  song  of  Naomi's  mother,  and  it 
was  from  Ruth  that  Fatimah  had  learned  it  in  those 
anxious  watches  of  the  early  uncertain  days  when 
she  sang  it  over  the  cradle  to  her  babe  that  was  deaf 
after  all  and  did  not  hear.  Naomi  knew  nothing 
of  this,  but  she  heard  her  mother's  song  at  last, 
though  silent  were  the  lips  that  first  sang  it,  and  it 
was  her  chief  and  dear  delight. 

0,  where  is  Love? 

Where,  where  is  Love  ? 
Is  it  of  heavenly  birth  ? 
Is  it  a  thing  of  earth  ? 

Where,  where  is  Love? 

In  her  crazy,  creechy  voice  the  black  woman 
would  sing  the  song,  when  Israel  was  out  of  hearing; 
and  the  joy  Naomi  found  in  it,  and  the  simple  silent 
arts  she  used,  being  mute  and  blind,  to  show  her 
pleasure  while  it  lasted,  and  to  ask  for  it  again  when 
it  was  done,  were  very  sweet  and  touching. 

And  so  it  eame  about  at  last,  that  even  as  the 
human  mother  loves  that  child  most  among  many 
children   that  most  is  helpless,  so  the  earth-mother 


NAOMI'S  GREAT  GIFT.  147 

of  Naomi  made  her  ears  more  keen  because  her  eyes 
were  blind.  Thus  she  seemed  to  hear  many  things 
that  are  unheard  by  the  rest  of  the  human  family. 
It  is  only  a  dim  echo  of  the  outer  world  that  the 
ears  of  men  are  allowed  to  hear,  just  as  it  is  only  a 
dim  shadow  of  the  outer  world  that  the  eyes  of  men 
are  allowed  to  see;  but  the  ears  of  Naomi  seemed  to 
hear  all. 

There  is  one  hearing  of  men,  and  another  hear- 
ing of  the  beasts,  and  a  third  of  the  birds;  and  one 
hearing  differs  from  another  in  keenness  even  as 
one  sight  differs  from  another  in  strength.  And  all 
the  earth  is  full  of  voices,  and  everything  that  moves 
upon  the  face  of  it  has  its  sound;  but  the  bird  hears 
that  which  is  unheard  of  the  beast,  and  the  beast 
hears  that  which  is  unheard  of  men.  But  Naomi  ap- 
peared to  hear  all  that  is  heard  of  each. 

Listening  hour  after  hour,  listening  always,  lis- 
tening only,  with  nothing  that  she  could  do  but  to 
listen,  nothing  moved  on  the  ground  but  she  dropped 
her  face,  and  nothing  flew  in  the  sky  but  she  lifted 
her  eyes.  And  whereas  before  the  coming  of  her 
great  gift  her  face  had  been  all  feeling,  and  she 
seemed  to  feel  the  sunset,  and  to  feel  the  sky,  and  to 
feel  the  thunder  and  the  light,  now  her  face  was  all 
hearing,  and  her  whole  body  seemed  to  hear,  for 
she  was  like  a  living  soul  floating  always  in  a  sea 
of  sound. 

Thus,  day  after  day,  she  was  busy  in  her  silence 
and  in  her  darkness,  building  up  notions  of  man 
and  of  the  world  by  the  new  gift  with  which  God 
had  gifted  her;  but  what  strange  thing  the  earth 
was  to  her  then,  what  the  sun  was  with  its  warmth, 
and  what  the  sea  was  with  its  roar,  and  what  the 
11 


148  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

face  of  man  was,  and  the  eyes  of  woman,  none  could 
know,  and  neither  could  she  tell,  for  her  soul  was 
not  linked  to  other  souls — soul  to  soul,  in  the  chains 
of  speech. 

And  for  all  that  she  could  not  answer:  vet  Israel 
did  not  forget  that,  beside  the  sounds  of  earth  and 
sky,  Naomi  was  hearing  words,  and  that  words  had 
wings,  and  were  alive,  and,  for  good  or  ill,  made  their 
mark  on  the  soul  that  listened  to  them.  So  he  con- 
tinned  to  read  to  her  out  of  the  Book  of  the  Law, 
day  after  day  at  sunset,  according  to  his  wont  and 
custom.  And  when  an  evil  spirit  seemed  to  make 
a  mock  at  him,  and  to  say,  "  Fool!  she  hears,  but 
does  she  understand?"  he  remembered  how  he  had 
read  to  her  in  the  days  of  her  deafness,  and  he  said 
to  himself,  "  Shall  1  have  less  faith  now  that  she 
can  hear?  " 

But.  though  he  turned  his  back  on  the  temptation 
to  let  go  of  Naomi's  soul  at  last,  yet  sometimes  his 
heart  misgave  him;  for  when  he  spoke  to  her  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  was  like  a  man  that  shouts 
into  a  cavern  and  gets  back  no  answer  but  the  sound 
of  his  own  voice.  If  he  told  her  of  the  sky,  that  it 
was  broad  as  the  ocean,  what  could  she  see  of  the 
greal  deeps  to  measure  them?  And  if  he  told  her  of 
the  sea,  that  it  was  green  as  the  fields,  what  could 
she  see  of  the  grass  to  know  its  colour?  And  some- 
times as  he  spoke  to  her  it  smote  him  suddenly  that 
the  words  themselves  which  he  used  to  speak  with 
were  no  more  to  Naomi  than  the  notes  which  Ali 
struck  from  his  dead  harp,  or  the  bleat  of  the  goat 
at  her  feet. 

Nevertheless,  his  faith  was  great,  and  he  said  in 
his   heart,  "  Let   the   Lord   find   His   own   way   to 


NAOMI'S  GREAT  GIFT.  149 

her  spirit."  So  he  continued  to  speak  with  her  as 
often  as  he  was  near  her,  telling  her  of  the  little 
things  that  concerned  their  household,  as  well  as 
of  the  greater  things  it  was  good  for  her  soul  to 
know. 

It  was  a  touching  sight — the  lonely  man,  the  out- 
cast among  his  people,  talking  with  his  daughter 
though  she  was  blind  and  dumb,  telling  her  of  God, 
of  heaven,  of  death  and  resurrection,  strong  in  his 
faith  that  his  words  would  not  fail,  hut  that  the 
casket  of  her  soul  would  be  opened  to  receive  them, 
and  that  they  would  lie  within  until  the  great  day 
of  judgment,  when  the  Lord  Himself  would  call 
for  them. 

Did  Naomi  hear  his  words  to  understand  them, 
or  did  they  fall  dead  on  her  ear  like  birds  on  a  dead 
sea?  In  her  darkness  and  her  silence  was  she  put- 
ting them  together,  comparing  them,  interpreting 
them,  pondering  them,  imitating  them,  gathering 
food  for  her  mind  from  them,  and  solace  for  her 
spirit?  Israel  did  not  know;  and,  watch  her  face 
as  he  would,  he  could  never  learn.  Hope!  Faith! 
Trust!  What  else  was  left  to  him?  He  clung 
to  all  three,  he  grappled  them  to  him:  they  were 
his  sheet-anchor  and  his  pole-star.  But  one  day 
they  seemed  to  be  his  calenture  also — the  false 
picture  of  green  fields  and  sweet  female  faces 
that  rises  before  the  eye  of  the  sailor  becalmed 
at  sea. 

It  was  some  three  weeks  after  his  return  from 
his  journey,  and  the  fierce  blaze  of  the  sun  contin- 
ued. The  storm  that  had  broken  over  the  town 
had  left  no  results  of  coolness  or  moisture,  for  the 
ground  had  been  baked  hard,  and  the  rain  had  been 


150  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

too  short  and  swift  to  penetrate  it.  And  what  the 
withering  heat  had  spared  of  green  leaf  and  shrub 
a  deadlier  blight  had  swept  away.  The  locusts  had 
lately  come  up  from  the  south  and  the  east,  in  num- 
bers exceeding  imagination,  millions  on  millions, 
making  the  air  dark  as  they  passed  and  obscuring 
the  blue  sky.  They  had  swept  the  country  of  its 
verdure,  and  left  a  trail  of  desolation  behind  them. 
The  grass  was  gone,  the  bark  of  the  olives  and  al- 
monds was  stripped  away,  and  the  bare  trees  had 
the  look  of  winter. 

The  first  to  feel  the  plague  had  been  the  cattle 
and  beasts  of  burden.  "Without  food  to  eat  or  water 
to  drink  they  had  died  in  hundreds.  A  Mukabar, 
a  cemetery,  was  made  for  the  animals  outside  the 
walls  of  the  town.  It  was  a  charnel-vard  on  the 
hill-side,  near  to  one  of  the  town's  six  gates.  The 
dead  creatures  were  not  buried  there,  but  merely 
cast  on  the  bare  ground  to  rot  and  to  bleach  in 
the  sun  and  the  heated  wind.  It  was  a  horrible 
place. 

The  skinny  dogs  of  the  town  soon  found  it.  And 
after  these  scavengers  of  the  East  had  torn  the  putre- 
fying flesh  and  gnawed  the  multitude  of  bones,  they 
prowled  around  the  country,  with  tongues  lolling 
out,  in  search  of  water.  By  this  time  there  was  none 
that  they  could  come  at  nearer  than  the  sea,  and 
that  was  salt.  Nevertheless,  they  lapped  it,  so  burn- 
ing was  their  thirst,  and  went  mad,  and  came  back 
to  the  town.  Then  the  people  hunted  them  and 
killed  them. 

Xow,  it  chanced  that  a  mad  dog  from  the  Muka- 
bar was  being  hunted  to  death  on  a  day  when  Na- 
omi,  who  had  become   accustomed   to   the   tumult 


NAOMI'S  GREAT  GIFT.  151 

of  the  streets,  had  first  ventured  out  in  them  alone, 
save  for  her  goat,  that  went  before  her.  The  goat 
was  grown  old,  but  it  was  still  her  constant  compan- 
ion, and  also  it  was  now  her  guide  and  guardian, 
for  the  little  dumb  creature  seemed  to  know  that  she 
was  frail  and  helpless.  And  so  it  was  that  she  was 
crossing  the  Sok  el  Foki,  a  market  of  the  town,  and 
hearkening  only  to  the  patter  of  the  feet  of  the  goat 
going  in  front,  when  suddenly  she  heard  a  hundred 
footsteps  hurrying  towards  her,  with  shouts  and 
curses  that  were  loud  and  deep.  She  stood  in  fear 
on  the  spot  where  she  was,  and  no  eyes  had  she  to 
see  what  happened  next,  and  she  had  none  save  the 
goat  to  tell  her. 

But  out  of  one  of  the  dark  arcades  on  the  left, 
leading  downward  from  the  hill,  the  mad  dog  came 
running,  before  a  multitude  of  men  and  boys.  And 
flying  in  its  despair,  it  bit  out  wildly  at  whatever 
lay  in  its  way,  and  Naomi,  in  her  blindness,  stood 
straight  in  front  of  it.  Then  she  must  have  fallen 
before  it,  but  instantly  the  goat  flung  itself  across 
the  dog's  open  jaws,  and  butted  at  its  foaming  teeth, 
and  sent  up  shrill  cries  of  terror. 

The  dog  stopped  a  moment,  for  such  love  was 
human,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  madness  of  the 
monster  shrank  before  it.  But  the  people  came 
down  with  their  wild  shouts  and  curses,  and  the 
dogs  sprang  upon  the  goat  and  welled  it,  and  fled 
away.  The  people  followed  it,  and  then  Naomi 
was  alone  in  the  market-place,  and  the  goat  lay  at 
her  feet. 

Ali  found  her  there,  and  brought  her  home  to 
her  father's  house  in  the  Mellah,  and  her  dying 
champion  with  her.     And  out  of  this  hard  chance, 


152  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  not  out  of  Israel's  teaching,  Naomi  was  first  to 
Irani  what  life  is  and  what  is  death.  She  felt  the 
goat  with  her  hands,  and  as  she  did  so  her  fingers 
shook.  Then  she  lifted  it  to  its  feet,  and  when  they 
slipped  from  under  it  she  raised  her  white  face  in 
wonder.  Again  she  lifted  it,  and  made  strange  noises 
at  its  ear;  hut  when  it  did  not  answer  with  its  bleat 
her  lips  began  to  tremble.  Then  she  listened  for 
its  breathing,  and  felt  for  its  breath;  but  when 
neither  the  one  came  to  her  ear,  nor  the  other 
to  her  cheek,  her  own  breath  beat  hot  and  fast.  At 
length  she  fondled  it  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  it 
with  her  lips;  and  when  it  gave  back  no  sign  of 
motion  nor  any  sound  of  voice,  a  wild  labouring 
rose  at  her  heart.  At  last,  when  the  power  of 
life  was  low  in  it,  the  goat  opened  its  heavy  eyes 
upon  her  and  put  forth  its  tongue  and  licked  her 
hand.  With  that  last  farewell  the  brave  heart  of 
the  little  creature  broke,  and  it  stretched  itself  and 
died. 

Israel  saw  it  all.  His  heart  bled  to  see  the  part- 
ing in  silence  between  those  two,  for  not  more  dumb 
was  the  goat  that  now  was  dead  than  the  human  soul 
that  was  left  alive.  lie  tried  to  put  the  goat  from 
Naomi's  arms,  saying,  "  It  was  only  a  goat,  my  child; 
think  of  it  no  more,"  though  it  smote  him  with  pain 
to  say  it,  for  had  not  the  creature  given  its  life  for 
her  life?  And  where,  0  God,  was  the  difference 
between  them?  Bu1  Naomi  clung  to  the  goat,  and 
her  throat  swelled  and  her  bosom  fluttered,  and 
her  whole  body  panted,  and  it  was  almost  as  if  her 
soul  were  struggling  to  burst  through  the  bonds 
that  bound  it,  that  she  might  speak  and  ask  and 
know. 


NAOMI'S  GREAT  GIFT.  153 

"Oh,  what  does  it  mean?  Why  is  it?  Why? 
Why?" 

Such  were  the  questions  that  seemed  ready  to 
break  from  her  tongue.  And,  thinking  to  answer 
her,  Israel  drew  her  to  him  and  said,  "  It  is  dead, 
my  child — the  goat  is  dead." 

But  as  he  spoke  that  word  he  saw  by  her  face, 
as  by  a  flash  of  light  in  a  dark  place,  that,  often 
as  he  had  told  her  of  death,  never  until  that  hour 
had  she  known  what  it  was.  Then,  if  the  words  that 
he  had  spoken  of  death  had  carried  no  meaning,  what 
could  he  hope  of  the  words  that  he  had  spoken  of 
life,  and  of  the  little  things  which  concerned  their 
household?  And  if  Naomi  had  not  heard  the  words 
he  had  said  of  these — if  she  had  not  pondered  and 
interpreted  them — if  they  had  fallen  on  her  ear  only 
as  voices  in  a  dark  cavern — only  as  dead  birds  on  a 
dead  sea — what  of  the  other  words,  the  greater  words, 
the  words  of  the  Book  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets, 
the  words  of  heaven  and  of  the  resurrection  and  of 
God? 

Had  the  hope  of  his  heart  been  vanity?  Did 
Naomi  know  nothing?  Was  her  great  gift  a 
mockery? 

Israel's  feet  were  set  in  a  slippery  place.  Why 
had  he  boasted  himself  of  God's  mercy?  What  were 
ears  to  hear  to  her  that  could  not  understand?  Only 
a  torment,  a  terror,  a  plague,  a  perpetual  desola- 
tion! When  Naomi  had  heard  nothing  she  had 
known  nothing,  and  never  had  her  spirit  asked  and 
cried  in  vain.  Now  she  was  dumb  for  the  first  time, 
being  no  longer  deaf.  Miserable  man  that  he  was, 
why  had  the  Lord  heard  his  supplication  and  why 
had  He  received  his  prayer? 


154  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

But,  repenting  of  such  reproaches,  in  memory 
of  the  joy  that  Naomi's  new  gift  had  given  her,  he 
called  on  God  to  give  her  speech  as  well. 

"Give  her  speech,  0  Lord!"  he  cried,  "speech 
that  shall  lift  her  above  the  creatures  of  the  field, 
speech  whereby  alone  she  may  ask  and  know!  Give 
her  speech,  0  God  my  God,  and  Thy  servant  will 
be  satisfied!  " 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

ISEAEL  AT   SHAWAN. 

After  Israel's  return  from  his  journey  he  had 
followed  the  precepts  of  the  young  Mahdi  of  Me- 
quinez.  Taking  a  view  of  his  situation,  that  by  his 
hardness  of  heart  in  the  early  days,  and  by  base 
submission  to  the  will  of  Katrina,  the  Kaid's  Chris- 
tian wife,  in  the  later  ones,  he  had  filled  the  land 
with  miseries,  he  now  spared  no  cost  to  restore  what 
he  had  unjustly  extorted.  So  to  him  that  had  paid 
double  in  the  taxings  he  had  returned  double — once 
for  the  tax  and  once  for  the  excess;  and  if  any  man, 
having  been  unjustly  taxed  for  the  Kaid's  tribute, 
had  given  bond  on  his  lands  for  his  debt  and  been 
cast  into  the  Kasbah  and  died,  without  ransoming 
them,  then  to  his  children  he  had  returned  fourfold 
— double  for  the  lands  and  double  for  the  death. 
Israel  had  done  this  continually,  and  said  nothing 
to  Ben  Aboo,  but  paid  all  charges  out  of  his  own 
purse,  so  that  from  being  a  rich  man  he  had  fallen 
within  a  month  to  the  condition  of  a  poor  one,  for 
what  was  one  man's  wealth  among  so  many?  Yet 
no  goodwill  had  he  won  thereby,  but  only  pity  and 
contempt,  for  the  people  that  had  taken  his  money 
had  thanked  the  Kaid  for  it,  who,  according  to  their 
supposals,  had  called  on  him  to  correct  what  he  had 
done  amiss.     And  with  Ben  Aboo  himself  he  had 

155 


156  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

fared  no  better,  for  the  Basha  was  provoked  to  anger 
with  him  when  he  heard  from  Katrina  of  the  good 
money  that  he  had  been  casting  away  in  pity  for 
the  poor. 

"  What  have  I  told  you  a  score  of  times?  "  said 
the  woman.    "  That  man  has  mints  of  money." 

"My  money,  burn  his  grandfather,"  said  Ben 
Aboo. 

Thus,  on  every  side  Israel  had  fallen  in  the 
world's  reckoning.  When  he  lifted  his  hand  from 
off  that  plough  wherewith  he  had  done  the  devil's 
work,  he  had  made  many  enemies,  and  such  as  he 
had  before  he  had  made  more  powerful.  People  who 
had  showed  him  lip-service  when  he  was  thought 
to  be  rich  did  not  conceal  the  joy  they  had  that  he 
was  brought  down  so  near  to  be  a  beggar.  Upstarts, 
who  owed  their  promotion  to  his  intercession,  found 
in  his  charities  an  easy  handle  given  them  to  be  inso- 
lent, for,  by  carrying  to  Katrina  their  secret  messages 
of  his  mercy  to  the  people,  they  brought  things  at 
length  to  such  a  pass  between  him  and  the  Kaid  that 
Ben  Aboo  openly  upbraided  Israel  for  his  weakness, 
not  once  or  twice  but  many  times. 

"  And  pray  what  is  this  that  I  hear  of  your  fine 
charities,  master  Israel?"  said  Ben  Aboo.  "Ah,  do 
not  look  surprised.  There  are  little  birds  enough 
to  twitter  of  such  follies.  So  you  are  throwing  away 
silver  like  bones  to  the  dogs!  Pity  you've  got  too 
much  of  it,  Israel  ben  Oliel;  pity  you've  got  too 
much  of  it,  I  say." 

"The  people  are  poor,  Lord  Basha,"  said  Israel; 
"they  are  famishing,  and  they  have  no  refuge  save 
with  God  and  with  us." 

"Tut!"  cried  Ben  Aboo.      "A   famine  in  my 


ISRAEL  AT  SHAWAN.  157 

bashalie!  Let  no  man  dare  to  say  so.  The  whining 
dogs  are  preying  upon  your  simpleness,  mistress  Is- 
rael. You  poor  old  grandmother!  I  always  sus- 
pected," he  added,  facing  about  upon  his  attendants, 
"  I  always  suspected  that  I  was  served  by  a  woman. 
Now  I  am  sure  of  it." 

Israel  felt  the  indignity.  He  had  given  good 
proof  of  his  manhood  in  the  past  by  standing  five- 
and-twenty  years  scapegoat  for  Ben  Aboo  between 
him  and  his  people,  making  him  rich  by  his  extor- 
tions, keeping  him  safe  in  his  seat,  and  thereby  sav- 
ing him  from  the  wooden  jellab  which  Abd-er-Rah- 
man,  the  Sultan,  kept  for  Kaids  that  could  not  pay. 
But  Israel  mastered  his  anger  and  held  his  peace. 

Word  went  through  the  town  that  Israel  had 
fallen  from  the  favour  of  the  Basha,  and  then  some 
of  the  more  bold  and  free  laughed  at  him  in  the 
streets  when  they  saw  him  relieve  the  miseries  of 
the  poor,  thinking  himself  accountable  to  God  for 
their  sufferings.  He  could  have  crushed  the  better 
part  of  his  insulters  to  death  in  his  brawny  arms, 
but  he  was  slow  to  anger  and  long-suffering.  All 
the  heed  he  paid  to  their  insults  was  to  do  his  good 
work  with  more  secrecy. 

Eemembering  his  Moorish  jellab,  and  how  ef- 
fectually it  had  disguised  him  on  the  night  of  his 
return  home,  he  had  recourse  to  it  in  this  difficulty. 
When  darkness  fell  he  donned  it  again,  drawing  the 
hood  well  down  over  his  black  Jewish  skull-cap  and 
as  far  as  might  be  over  his  face.  In  this  innocent 
disguise  he  went  out  night  after  night  for  many 
nights  among  the  poorer  Moors  that  lived  in  the 
dismal  quarters  of  the  grain  markets  near  the  Bab 
Eamooz.     How  he  bore  himself  being  there,   with 


158  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

what  harmless  deceptions  he  unburdened  his  soul 
by  stealth,  what  guileless  pretences  he  made  that  he 
might  restore  to  the  poor  the  money  that  had  been 
stolen  from  them,  would  be  a  long  story  to  tell. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  was  asked  a  hundred  times. 

"  A  friend,"  he  answered. 

"  Who  told  you  of  our  trouble?  " 

"  Allah  has  angels,"  he  would  reply. 

Often,  on  his  nightly  rambles,  he  heard  himself 
reviled,  and  saw  the  very  children  of  the  streets  spit 
over  their  fingers  at  the  mention  of  his  name.  And 
sometimes  as  he  passed  he  heard  blind  people  whis- 
per together  and  say,  "  He  is  a  saint.  He  comes 
from  the  Kabar  at  nightfall.  Allah  sends  him  to 
help  poor  men  who  have  been  in  the  clutches  of 
Israel  the  Jew." 

Nevertheless,  Israel  kept  his  secret.  What  did 
the  word  of  man  avail  for  good  or  evil?  It  would 
count  for  nothing  at  the  last.  Do  justice  and  ask 
nought;  neither  praise,  for  it  was  a  wayward  wind, 
nor  gratitude,  for  it  was  the  breath  of  angels. 

One  day,  about  a  month  after  his  return  from 
his  journey,  when  he  was  near  to  the  end  of  his 
substance,  a  message  came  to  him  that  the  follow- 
ers of  Absalam  were  perishing  of  hunger  in  their 
prison  at  Shawan.  Their  relatives  in  Tetuan  had 
found  them  in  food  until  now,  but  the  plague  of  the 
locust  had  fallen  on  the  bread-winners,  and  they 
had  no  more  bread  to  send.  Israel  concluded  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  succour  them.  From  a  just  view 
of  his  responsibi lilies  he  had  gone  on  to  a  morbid 
one.  If  in  the  Judgment  the  blood  of  the  people  of 
Absalam  cried  to  God  against  him,  he  himself,  and 
not  lien  Aboo,  would  be  cast  out  into  hell. 


ISRAEL  AT  SIliWAN.  159 

Israel  juggled  with  his  heart  no  further,  but 
straightway  began  to  take  a  view  of  his  condition. 
Then  he  saw,  to  his  dismay,  that  little  as  he  had 
thought  he  possessed,  even  less  remained  to  him  out 
of  the  wreck  of  his  riches.  Only  one  thing  be  had 
still,  but  that  was  a  thing  so  dear  to  his  heart  that 
he  had  never  looked  to  part  with  it.  It  was  the 
casket  of  his  dead  wife's  jewels.  Nevertheless,  in  his 
extremity  he  resolved  to  sell  it  now,  and,  taking  the 
key,  he  went  up  to  the  room  where  he  kept  it — a 
closet  that  was  sacred  to  the  relics  of  her  who  lay 
in  his  heart  for  ever,  but  in  his  house  no  more. 

Naomi  went  up  with  him,  and  when  he  had 
broken  the  seal  from  the  doorpost,  and  the  little 
door  creaked  back  on  its  hinge,  the  ashy  odour  came 
out  to  them  of  a  chamber  long  shut  up.  It  was  just 
as  if  the  buried  air  itself  had  fallen  in  death  to  dust, 
for  the  dust  of  the  years  lay  on  everything.  But 
under  its  dark  mantle  were  soft  silks  and  delicate 
shawls  and  gauzy  haiks,  and  veils  and  embroidered 
sashes  and  light  red  slippers,  and  many  dainty  things 
such  as  women  love.  And  to  him  that  came  again 
after  ten  heavy  years  they  were  as  a  dream  of  her 
that  had  worn  them  when  she  was  young  that  now 
was  dead,  when  she  was  beautiful  that  now  was  in 
the  grave. 

"Ah  me,  ah  me!  Ruth!  My  Ruth!  "  he  mur- 
mured. "This  was  her  shawl.  I  brought  it  from 
Wazan.  .  .  .  And  these  slippers — they  came  from 
Rabat.  Poor  girl,  poor  girl!  .  .  .  This  sash,  too.  it 
used  to  be  yellow  and  white.  How  well  I  remember 
the  first  time  she  wore  it!  She  had  put  it  over  her 
head  for  a  hood,  pretending  to  be  a  Moorish  woman. 
But  her  brown  curls  fell  out  over  her  face,  for  she 


160  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

could  not  imprison  them.  And  then  she  laughed. 
My  poor  dear  girl!  How  happy  we  were  once  in. 
spite  of  everything!    It  is  all  like  yesterday.    When 

1  think Ah  no,  I  must  think  no  more,  I  must 

think  no  more." 

Israel  had  little  heart  for  such  visions,  so  he 
turned  to  the  casket  of  the  jewels  where  it  stood  by 
the  wall.  With  trembling  hands  he  took  it  and 
opened  it,  and  here  within  were  necklaces  and  brace- 
lets, and  rings  and  earrings,  glistening  of  gold  and 
rubies  under  their  covering  of  dust.  He  lifted  them 
one  by  one  over  his  wrinkled  fingers,  and  looked  at 
them  while  his  eyes  grew  wet. 

"  Not  for  myself,"  he  murmured,  "  not  for  my- 
self would  I  have  sold  them,  not  for  bread  to  eat  or 
water  to  drink;  no,  not  for  a  wilderness  of  worlds!  " 

All  this  time  he  had  given  little  thought  to  Na- 
omi, where  she  stood  by  his  side,  but  in  her  darkness 
and  silence  she  touched  the  silks  and  looked  serious, 
and  the  slippers  and  looked  perplexed,  and  now  at 
the  jingling  of  the  jewels  she  stretched  out  her  hand 
and  took  one  of  them  from  her  father's  fingers,  and 
feeling  it,  and  finding  it  to  be  a  necklace,  she  clasped 
it  about  her  neck  and  laughed. 

At  the  sound  of  her  laughter  Israel  shook  like 
a  reed.  It  brought  back  the  memory  of  the  day 
when  she  danced  to  her  mother's  death,  decked  in 
that  same  necklace  and  those  same  ornaments.  More 
on  this  head  Israel  could  not  think  and  hold  to  his 
purpose,  so  lie  took  the  jewels  from  Naomi's  neck 
and  returned  thorn  to  the  casket,  and  hasted  away 
with  it  to  a  man  to  whom  he  designed  to  sell  it. 

This  was  no  other  than  Reuben  Maliki.  keeper 
of  the  poor  box  of  the  Jews;  for  as  well  as  a  usurer 


ISRAEL  AT  SHlWAN.  161 

he  was  a  silversmith,  and  kept  his  shop  in  the  Sok 
el  Foki.  Israel  was  moved  to  go  to  this  person  by 
the  remembrance  of  two  things,  of  which  either 
seemed  enough  for  his  preference — first,  that  he  had 
bought  the  jewels  of  Reuben  in  the  beginning,  and 
next,  that  Reuben  had  never  since  ceased  to  speak 
of  them  in  Tetuan  as  priceless  beyond  the  gems  of 
Ethiopia  and  the  gold  of  Ophir. 

But  when  Israel  came  to  him  now  with  the  casket, 
that  he  might  buy,  he  eyed  both  with  looks  of  indif- 
ference, though  it  was  more  dear  to  his  covetous 
and  revengeful  heart  that  Israel  should  humble  him- 
self in  his  need,  and  bring  these  jewels,  than  almost 
any  other  satisfaction  that  could  come  to  it. 

"And  what  is  this  that  you  bring  me?"  said 
Reuben  languidly. 

"  A  case  of  jewels,"  said  Israel,  with  a  downward 
look. 

"Jewels?  umph!  what  jewels?" 

"  My  poor  wife's.  You  know  them,  Reuben. 
See!  " 

Israel  opened  the  casket. 

"  Ah,  your  wife's.  Umph!  yes,  I  suppose  I  must 
have  seen  them  somewhere." 

"  You  have  seen  them  here,  Reuben." 

"  Here  ? — do  you  say  here  ?  " 

"  Reuben,  you  sold  them  to  me  eighteen  vears 
ago." 

"  Sold  them  to  you?  Never.  I  don't  remember 
it.  Surely  you  must  be  mistaken.  I  can  never  have 
dealt  in  things  like  these." 

Reuben  had  taken  the  casket  in  his  hands,  and 
was  pursing  up  his  lips  in  expressions  of  contempt. 

Israel  watched  him  closely.     "  Give  them  back 


162  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

to  me,"  he  said;  "  I  can  go  elsewhere.  I  have  no 
time  for  wrangling." 

Eeuben's  lip  straightened  instantly.  "  Wran- 
gling? Who  is  wrangling,  brother?  You  are  too 
impatient,  Sidi." 

"  I  am  in  haste,"  said  Israel. 

"Ah!" 

There  was  an  ominous  silence,  and  then  in  a  cold 
voice  Eeuben  said,  "  The  things  are  well  enough 
in  their  way.  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  with 
them?" 

"  To  buy  them,"  said  Israel. 

"Buy  them?" 

"  Yes." 

"  But  I  don't  want  them." 

"  Are  they  worth  your  money? — you  don't  want 
that  either." 

"Umph!" 

A  gleam  of  mockery  passed  over  Eeuben's  face, 
and  he  proceeded  to  examine  the  casket.  One  by 
one  he  trifled  with  the  gems — the  rich  onyx,  the 
sapphire,  the  crystal,  the  coral,  the  pearl,  the  ruby, 
and  the  topaz;  and  first  he  pushed  them  from  him, 
and  then  he  drew  them  back  again.  And  seeing 
them  thus  cheapened  in  Eeuben's  hairy  fingers,  the 
precious  jewels  which  had  clasped  his  Euth's  soft 
wrist  and  her  white  neck,  Israel  could  scarcely  hold 
back  his  hand  from  snatching  them  away.  But 
how  can  he  that  is  poor  answer  him  that  is  rich? 
So  Israel  put  his  twitching  hands  behind  him,  re- 
membering Naomi  and  the  poor  people  of  Absalam, 
and  when  at  length  Eeuben  tendered  him  for  the 
casket  one  half  what  he  had  paid  for  it,  he  took  the 
money  in  silence  and  went  his  way. 


ISRAEL  AT  SHAWAN.  163 

"  Five  hundred  dollars — I  can  give  no  more," 
Reuben  had  said. 

"  Do  you  say  five  hundred — five?  " 

"  Five — take  it  or  leave  it." 

It  was  market  morning,  and  the  market-square 
as  Israel  passed  through  was  a  busy  and  noisy  place. 
The  grocers  squatted  within  their  narrow  wooden 
boxes  turned  on  their  sides,  one  half  of  the  lid 
propped  up  as  a  shelter  from  the  sun,  the  other  half 
hung  down  as  a  counter,  whereon  lay  raisins  and 
figs,  and  melons  and  dates.  On  the  unpaved  ground 
the  bakers  crouched  in  irregular  lines.  They  were 
women  enveloped  in  monstrous  straw  hats,  with  big 
round  cakes  of  bread  exposed  for  sale  on  rush  mats 
at  their  feet.  Under  arcades  of  dried  leaves — made, 
like  desert  graves,  of  upright  poles  and  dry  branches 
thrown  across — the  butchers  lay  at  their  ease,  flick- 
ing the  flies  from  their  discoloured  meat.  "Buy! 
buy!  buy! ';  they  all  shouted  together.  A  dense 
throng  of  the  poor  passed  between  them  in  torn 
jellabs  and  soiled  turbans,  and  haggled  and  bought. 
Asses  and  mules  crushed  through  amid  shouts  of 
"  Arrah!  "  «  Arrah!  "  and  "  Balak!  "  "  Ba-lak!  "  It 
was  a  lively  scene,  with  more  than  enough  of  bustle 
and  swearing  and  vociferation. 

There  was  more  than  enough  of  lying  and  cheat- 
ing also,  both  practised  with  subtle  and  half-con- 
scious humour.  Inside  a  booth  for  the  sale  of  sugar 
in  loaf  and  sack  a  man  sat  fingering  a  rosary  and 
mumbling  prayers  for  penance.  "  God  forgive  me," 
he  muttered,  "  God  forgive  me,  God  forgive  me,"  and 
at  every  repetition  he  passed  a  bead.  A  customer  ap- 
proached, touched  a  sugar  loaf  and  asked,  "  How 

much?"     The  merchant  continued  his  prayers  and 
12 


164  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

did  his  business  at  a  breath.  "  (God  forgive  me)  How 
much?  (God  forgive  me)  Four  pesetas  (God  forgive 
me)"  and  round  went  the  restless  rosary.  "  Too 
much,"  said  the  buyer;  "  I'll  give  three."  The  mer- 
chant went  on  with  his  prayers,  and  answered,  "  (God 
forgive  me)  Couldn't  take  it  for  as  much  as  you  might 
put  in  your  tooth  (God  forgive  me);  gave  four  my- 
self (God  forgive  me)."  "Then  I'll  leave  it,  old 
sweet-tooth,"  said  the  buyer,  as  he  moved  away. 
"Here!  take  it  for  nothing  (God  forgive  me),"  cried 
the  merchant  after  the  retreating  figure.  "  (God  for- 
give me)  I'm  giving  it  away  (God  forgive  me);  I'll 
starve,  but  no  matter  (God  forgive  me),  you  are  my 
brother  (God  forgive  me,  God  forgive  me,  God  forgive 
me)." 

Israel  bought  the  bread  and  the  meat,  the  raisins 
and  the  figs  which  the  prisoners  needed — enough  for 
the  present  and  for  many  days  to  come.  Then  he 
hired  six  mules  with  burdas  to  bear  the  food  to 
Shawan,  and  a  man  two  days  to  lead  them.  Also 
he  hired  mules  for  himself  and  Ali,  for  he  knew 
full  well  that,  unless  with  his  own  eyes  he  saw  the 
followers  of  Absalam  receive  what  he  had  bought, 
no  chance  was  there,  in  these  days  of  famine,  that 
it  would  ever  reach  them.  And,  all  being  ready  for 
his  short  journey,  he  set  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  when  the  sun  was  highest,  hoping  that  the  town 
would  then  be  at  rest,  and  thinking  to  escape  ob- 
servation. 

His  expectation  was  so  far  justified  that  the 
market-place,  when  he  came  to  it  again,  with  his 
little  caravan  going  before  him,  was  silent  and  de- 
serted. But,  coming  into  the  walled  lane  to  the 
Bab  Toot,  the  gate  at  which  the  Shawan  road  enters, 


ISRAEL  AT  SHAWAN.  165 

he  encountered  a  great  throng  and  a  strange  pro- 
cession. It  was  a  procession  of  penance  and  peti- 
tion, asking  God  to  wipe  out  the  plague  of  locusts 
that  was  destroying  the  land  and  eating  up  the 
bread  of  its  children.  A  venerable  Jew,  with  long 
white  beard,  walked  side  by  side  with  a  Moor  of 
great  stature,  enshrouded  in  the  folds  of  his  snow- 
white  haik.  These  were  the  chief  Rabbi  of  the  Jews 
and  the  Imam  of  the  Muslims,  and  behind  them 
other  Jews  and  Moors  walked  abreast  in  the  burning 
sun.  All  were  barefooted,  and  such  as  were  Berbers 
were  bareheaded  also. 

"  In  the  name  of  Allah,  the  Compassionate  and 
Merciful!  "  the  Imam  cried,  and  the  Muslims  echoed 
him. 

"  By  the  God  of  Jacob!  "  the  Rabbi  prayed,  and 
the  Jews  repeated  the  words  after  him. 

"  Spare  us!  Spare  the  land! "  they  all  cried  to- 
gether. "  Send  rain  to  destroy  the  eggs  of  the  lo- 
cust! "  cried  the  Babbi.  "  Else  will  they  rise  on  the 
ground  in  the  sunshine  like  rice  on  the  granary  floor; 
and  neither  fire  nor  river  nor  the  army  of  the  Sultan 
will  stop  them;  and  we  ourselves  will  die,  and  our 
children  with  us!  " 

And  the  Jews  cried,  "  God  of  Jacob,  be  our 
refuge ! " 

And  the  Muslims  shouted,  "  Allah,  save  us!  " 

It  was  a  strange  sight  to  look  upon  in  that  land 
of  intolerance — the  haughty  Moor  and  the  despised 
Jew,  with  all  petty  hatreds  sunk  out  of  sight  and 
forgotten  in  the  grip  of  the  death  that  threatened 
both  alike,  walking  and  praying  in  the  public  streets 
together. 

Israel  drew  close  to  the  wall  and  passed  by  un- 


166  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

observed.  And  being  come  into  the  open  road  out- 
side the  town,  he  began  to  take  a  view  of  the  mo- 
tives that  had  brought  him  away  from  his  home 
again.  Then  he  saw  that,  if  he  was  not  a  hypocrite 
like  Reuben,  no  credit  could  he  give  himself  for 
what  he  was  doing,  and  if  he  was  poor  who  had 
before  been  rich,  no  merit  could  be  made  of  his 
poverty. 

"  Xaomi,  Xaomi,  all  for  her,  all  for  her,"  he 
thought. 

Naomi  was  his  hope  and  his  salvation.  His  faith 
in  God  was  his  love  of  the  child.  He  was  only  brib- 
ing God  to  give  her  grace.  And  well  he  knew  it, 
while  he  journeyed  towards  the  prison  behind  his 
six  mules  laden  with  bread  for  them  that  lay  there, 
that,  ninth  as  he  owed  them,  being  a  cause  of  their 
miseries,  the  mercy  he  was  about  to  show  them  was 
but  as  mercy  shown  to  himself.  So  the  nearer  he 
came  to  it  the  lower  his  head  sank  into  his  breast, 
as  if  the  sun  itself  that  beat  down  so  fiercely  upon 
his  head  had  eyes  to  peer  into  his  deceiving  soul. 

The  town  of  Shawan  lies  sixty  miles  south  of 
Tetuan  in  the  northern  half  of  the  territory  of  the 
tribe  of  Akhmas,  and  the  sun  was  two  hours  set 
when  Israel  entered  its  beautiful  valley  between  the 
two  arms  of  the  mountain  called  Jebel  Sheshawan. 
Going  through  the  orchards  and  vineyards  that 
were  round  it,  he  was  recognised  by  certain  Jews, 
tanners  and  pannier-makers,  who  in  the  days  of  his 
harder  rule  had  fled  from  Tetuan  and  his  heavy 
taxings. 

"It's  Israel  ben  Oliel,"  whispered  one. 

"God  of  Jacob,  save  us!"  whispered  another. 

"  lie  has  followed  us  for  the  arrears  of  taxes." 


ISRAEL  AT  SHAWAN.  167 

"  We  must  fly." 

"  Let  us  go  home  first." 

"  No  time  for  that." 

"  There  is  Eachel " 

"  She's  a  woman." 

"  But  I  must  warn  my  son — he  has  children." 

"  Then  you  are  lost.     Come  on." 

Before  he  reached  the  rude  old  masonry  that  had 
once  been  the  fortress  and  was  now  the  prison,  the 
poor  followers  of  Absalam,  who  lay  within,  had  heard 
that  he  was  coming,  and,  in  their  despair  and  the 
wild  disorder  of  all  their  senses,  they  looked  for  noth- 
ing hut  death  from  his  visit,  as  if  they  were  to  be  cut 
to  pieces  instantly.  Men  and  women  and  young  chil- 
dren, gaunt  with  hunger  and  begrimed  with  dirt, 
some  with  faces  that  were  hard  and  stony,  some  with 
faces  that  were  weak  and  simple,  some  with  eyes  that 
were  red  as  blood,  all  weary  with  waiting  and  wasted 
with  long  pain,  ran  hither  and  thither  in  the  gloom 
of  the  foul  place  where  they  were  immured  together. 
Shedding  tears,  beating  their  flesh,  and  crying  out 
with  woeful  clamour,  these  unhappy  creatures  of 
God,  who  had  been  great  of  soul  when  they  sang 
their  death-song  with  the  precipice  behind  them  and 
the  soldiers  in  front,  now  quaked  for  the  miserable 
lives  which  they  preserved  in  hunger  and  cherished 
in  bitterness. 

By  help  of  the  seal  of  his  master,  which  he  al- 
ways carried,  Israel  found  his  way  into  the  court- 
yard of  the  prison.  The  prisoners,  who  had  been 
gathered  there  for  his  inspection,  heard  his  footsteps, 
and  by  one  impulse,  as  if  an  angel  from  heaven  had 
summoned  them,  they  fell  to  their  knees  about  the 
door  wherebv  he  must  enter,  men  behind  and  women 


168  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

in  front,  and  mothers  holding  out  their  babes  before 
their  breasts  so  that  he  might  see  them  first,  and 
have  mercy  upon  them  if  he  had  a  heart  made  for 
pity. 

Then  the  door  of  the  place  was  thrown  open,  and 
Israel  entered.  His  head  was  bowed  down,  and  his 
feet  were  bare.  The  people  drew  their  breath  in 
wonder. 

"Arise,"  he  said;  "I  mean  you  no  harm!  See! 
Here  is  bread!  Take  it,  and  God  bless  you!  " 

So  saying,  he  motioned  with  his  trembling  hand 
to  where  Ali  and  the  muleteer  brought  in  the  burden 
of  food  behind  him. 

And  when  the  poor  souls  could  believe  it  at  last, 
that  he  whom  they  had  looked  for  as  their  judge  had 
come  as  their  saviour,  their  hearts  surged  within 
them.  Their  hunger  left  them,  and  only  the  chil- 
dren could  eat.  For  a  moment  they  stood  in  silence 
about  Israel,  and  their  tears  stained  their  wasted 
faces.  And  Israel,  in  their  midst,  tasted  a  new  joy 
in  his  new  poverty  such  as  his  riches  had  never 
brought  him — no,  not  once  in  all  the  days  of  his  old 
prosperity. 

At  length  an  old  man — he  was  a  Muslim — looked 
steadily  into  Israel's  face  and  said,  "  May  the  God  of 
Jacob  Me-  thee  also,  brother!  " 

After  that  they  all  recovered  their  voices  and 
began  to  thank  him  out  of  their  blind  gratitude, 
falling  to  their  knees  at  his  feet  as  before,  yet  with 
hearts  so  different. 

"  May  the  Father  of  the  fatherless  requite  thee!  " 

"May  the  child  of  thy  wife  be  blessed!  " 

"Stop,"  he  cried;  "stop!  you  don't  know  what 
you  are  saying." 


ISRAEL  AT  SHAW  AN.  169 

He  turned  away  from  them  with  a  look  of  pain, 
as  if  their  words  had  stung  him.  They  followed  him 
and  touched  his  kaftan  with  their  lips;  they  pushed 
their  children  under  his  hands  for  his  blessing. 

"  No,  no,"  he  cried;  "  no,  no,  no!  " 

Then  he  passed  out  of  the  place  with  rapid  steps, 
and  fled  from  the  town  like  one  who  was  ashamed. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    MEETING    ON    THE    SOK. 

Although  Israel  did  not  know  it,  and  in  the 
hunger  of  his  heart  he  would  have  given  all  the 
world  to  learn  it,  yet  if  any  man  could  have  peered 
into  the  dark  chamber  where  the  spirit  of  Naomi  had 
dwelt  seventeen  years  in  silence,  he  would  have  seen 
that,  dear  as  the  child  was  to  the  father,  still  dearer 
and  more  needful  was  the  father  to  the  child.  Since 
her  mother  left  her  he  had  been  eyes  of  her  eyes 
and  ears  of  her  ears,  touching  her  hand  for  assent, 
patting  her  head  for  approval,  and  guiding  her  fingers 
to  teach  them  signs. 

Thus  Israel  was  more  to  Naomi  than  any  father 
before  to  any  daughter,  more  to  her  than  mother  or 
bister  or  brother  or  kindred;  for  he  was  her  sole  gate- 
way to  the  world  she  lived  in,  the  one  alley  whereby 
her  spirit  gazed  upon  it,  the  key  that  opened  the 
closed  doors  of  her  soul;  and  without  him  neither 
could  the  world  come  in  to  her,  nor  could  she  go 
out  to  the  world.  Soft  and  beautiful  was  the  com- 
merce between  tbeni,  unite  on  one  side  of  all  lan- 
guage save  tears  and  kisses,  like  the  commerce  of  a 
mother  with  her  first-born  child,  as  holy  in  love,  as 
sweet  in  mystery,  as  pure  from  taint,  and  as  deep  in 
tenderness.  While  her  father  was  with  her,  then 
only  did  Naomi  seem  to  live,  and  her  happy  heart 
170 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  171 

to  be  full  of  wonder  at  the  strange  new  things  that 
flowed  in  upon  it.  And  when  he  was  gone  from  her, 
she  was  merely  a  spirit  barred  and  shut  within  her 
body's  close  abode,  waiting  to  be  born  anew. 

When  Israel  made  ready  to  go  to  Shawan,  Naomi 
clung  to  him  to  hinder  him,  as  if  remembering  his 
long  absence  when  he  went  to  Fez,  and  connecting 
it  with  the  illness  that  came  to  her  in  his  absence; 
or  as  seeming  to  see,  with  those  eyes  that  were  blind 
to  the  ways  of  the  world,  what  was  to  befall  him 
before  he  returned.  He  put  her  from  him  with  many 
tender  words,  and  smoothed  her  hair  and  kissed  her 
forehead,  as  though  to  chide  her  while  he  blessed  her 
for  so  much  love.  But  her  dread  increased,  and  she 
held  to  him  like  a  child  to  its  mother's  robe.  And 
at  last,  when  he  unloosed  her  hands  and  pushed  them 
away  as  if  in  anger,  and  after  that  laughed  lightly 
as  if  to  tell  her  that  he  knew  her  meaning  yet  had 
no  fear,  her  trouble  rose  to  a  storm  and  she  fell  to  a 
fit  of  weeping. 

"Tut!  tut!  what  is  this?"  he  said.  "I  will  be 
back  to-morrow.  Do  you  hear,  my  child? — to-mor- 
row!    At  sunset  to-morrow." 

When  he  was  gone,  the  terror  that  had  so  sud- 
denly possessed  her  seemed  to  increase.  Her  face 
was  red,  her  mouth  was  dry,  her  eyelids  quivered,  and 
her  hands  were  restless.  If  she  sat  she  rose  quickly; 
if  she  stood  she  walked  again  more  fast.  Sometimes 
she  listened  with  head  aside,  sometimes  moaned, 
sometimes  wept  outright,  and  sometimes  she  mut- 
tered to  herself  in  noises  such  as  none  had  heard  from 
her  lips  before. 

The  bondwomen  could  find  no  way  to  comfort 
her.     Indeed,  the  trouble  of  her  heart  took  hold  of 


172  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

them.  When  she  plucked  Fatimah  by  the  gown,  and 
with  her  blind  eyes,  that  were  also  wet,  seemed  to 
look  sadly  into  the  black  woman's  face,  as  if  asking 
for  her  father,  like  a  dog  for  its  master  that  is  dead, 
Fatimah  shed  tears  as  well,  partly  in  pity  of  her 
fears,  and  partly  in  terror  of  the  unknown  troubles 
still  to  come  which  God  Himself  might  have  revealed 
to  her. 

"  Alas!  little  dumb  soul,  what  is  to  happen 
now?"  cried  Fatimah. 

"  Alack!  girl,"  said  Habeebah,  "  the  maid  is  sick- 
ening again." 

And  this  was  all  that  the  good  souls  could  make 
of  her  restless  agitation.  She  slept  that  night  from 
sheer  exhaustion,  a  deep  lethargic  slumber,  apparent- 
ly broken  once  or  twice  by  troubled  dreams.  When 
she  awoke  in  the  morning  at  the  first  sound  of  the 
voice  of  the  mooddin,  the  evil  dreams  seemed  to  be 
with  her  still.  She  appeared  to  be  moving  along  in 
them  like  one  spell-bound  by  a  great  dread  that  she 
could  not  utter,  as  if  she  were  living  through  a  night- 
mare of  the  day.  Then  long  hour  followed  long  hour, 
but  the  inquietude  of  her  mood  did  not  abate.  Her 
bosom  heaved,  her  throat  throbbed,  her  excitement 
became  hysterical.  Sometimes  she  broke  into  wild, 
inarticulate  shouts,  and  sometimes  the  black  women 
could  have  believed,  in  spite  of  knowledge  and  reason, 
that  she  was  muttering  and  speaking  words,  though 
with  a  wild  disorder  of  utterance. 

At  last  the  day  waned  and  the  sun  went  down. 
Naomi  seemed  to  know  when  this  occurred,  for  she 
could  scent  the  cool  air.  Then,  with  a  fresh  intent- 
ness,  she  listened  to  the  footsteps  outside,  and,  hav- 
ing listened,  her  trouble  increased.     What  did  Naomi 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  173 

hear?  The  black  women  could  hear  nothing  save 
the  common  sounds  of  the  streets — the  shouts  of 
children  at  play,  the  calls  of  women,  the  cries  of  the 
mule-drivers,  and  now  and  again  the  piercing  shrieks 
of  a  black  story-teller  from  the  town  of  the  Moors 
— only  this  varied  flow  of  voices,  and  under  it  the 
indistinct  murmur  of  multitudinous  life  coming  and 
going  on  every  side. 

Did  other  sounds  come  to  Naomi's  ears?  Was 
her  spiritual  power,  which  was  unclogged  by  any 
grosser  sense  than  that  of  hearing,  conscious  of  some 
terrible  undertone  of  impending  trouble?  Or  was 
her  disquietude  no  more  than  recollection  of  her  fa- 
ther's promise  to  be  back  at  sunset,  and  mere  anx- 
iety for  his  return?  Fatimah  and  Habeebah  knew 
nothing  and  saw  nothing.  All  that  they  could  do 
was  to  wring  their  hands. 

Meantime,  Noami's  agitation  became  yet  more 
restless,  and  nothing  would  serve  her  at  last  but  that 
she  should  go  out  into  the  streets.  And  the  black 
women,  seeing  her  so  steadfastly  minded,  and  being 
affected  by  her  fears,  made  her  ready,  and  them- 
selves as  well,  and  then  all  three  went  out  together. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  "  said  Habeebah. 

"  Nay,  how  should  I  know?  "  said  Fatimah. 

"  We  are  fools,"  said  Habeebah. 

It  was  now  an  hour  after  sunset,  the  light  was 
fading,  and  the  traffic  was  sinking  down.  Only  at 
the  gate  of  the  Mellah,  which,  contrary  to  custom, 
had  not  yet  been  closed,  was  the  throng  still  dense. 
A  group  of  Jews  stood  under  it  in  earnest  and  pas- 
sionate talk.  There  was  a  strange  and  bodeful  si- 
lence on  every  side.  The  coffee-house  of  the  Moors 
beyond  the  gate  was  already  lit  up,  and  the  door 


174  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

was  open,  but  the  floor  was  empty.  No  snake-charm- 
ers, no  jugglers,  no  story-tellers,  with  their  circles  of 
squatting  spectators,  were  to  be  seen  or  heard.  These 
professors  of  science  and  magic  and  jocularity  had 
never  before  been  absent.  Even  the  blind  beggars, 
crouching  under  the  town  walls,  were  silent.  But 
out  of  the  mosques  there  came  a  deep  low  chant 
as  of  many  voices,  from  great  numbers  gathered 
within. 

"  The  girl  was  right,"  said  Fatimah;  "  something 
has  happened." 

"What  is  it?"  said  Habeebah. 

"  Nay,  how  should  I  know  that  either?  "  said  Fa- 
timah. 

"  I  tell  you  we  are  a  pair  of  fools,"  said  Habeebah. 

Meantime  Xaomi  held  their  hands,  and  they  must 
needs  follow  where  she  led.  Her  body  was  between 
them;  they  wore  borne  along  by  her  feeble  frame  as 
by  an  irresistible  force.  And  pitiful  it  would  have 
seemed,  and  perhaps  foolish  also,  if  any  human  eye 
had  seen  them  then,  these  helpless  children  of  God, 
going  whither  they  knew  not  and  wherefore  they 
knew  not,  save  that  a  fear  that  was  like  to  madness 
drew  them  on. 

"Listen!  I  hear  something,"  said  Fatimah. 

••  Win  re?"  said  Habeebah. 

"  The  way  we  are  going."  said  Fatimah. 

On  and  on  Xaomi  passed  from  street  to  street. 
They  were  the  same  streets  whereby  she  had  re- 
turned to  her  father's  house  on  the  day  that  her 
goat  was  slain.  Never  since  then  had  she  trodden 
them,  but  she  neither  altered  nor  turned  aside  to  the 
right  or  the  left,  but  made  straight  forward,  until 
she  came  to  the  Sok  el  Foki,  and  to  the  place  where 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  175 

the  goat  had  fallen  before  the  foaming  jaws  of  the 
dog  from  the  Mukabar.  Then  she  could  go  no  far- 
ther. 

"  Holy  saints,  what  is  this  ?  "  cried  Habeebah. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  the  girl  heard  something?  " 
said  Fatimah. 

"  God's  face  shine  on  us/'  said  Habeebah.  "What 
is  all  this  crowd?  " 

An  immense  throng  covered  the  upper  half  of 
the  market-square,  and  overflowed  into  the  streets 
and  arched  alleys  leading  to  the  Kasbah.  It  was 
not  a  close  and  dense  crowd  of  white-hooded  forms 
such  as  gathered  on  that  spot  on  market  morning 
— a  seething,  steaming,  moving  mass  of  haiks  and  jel- 
labs  and  Maghribi  blankets,  with  here  and  there  a 
bare  shaven  head  and  plaited  crown-lock — but  a  great 
crowd  of  dark  figures  in  black  gowns  and  skull-caps. 
The  assemblage  was  of  Jews  only — Jews  of  every 
age  and  class  and  condition,  from  the  comely  young 
Jewish  butcher  in  his  blood-stained  rags  to  the  tooth- 
less old  Jewish  banker  with  gold  braid  on  his  new 
kaftan. 

They  were  gathered  together  to  consider  the  pos- 
ture of  affairs  in  regard  to  the  plague  of  locusts. 
Hence  the  Moorish  officials  had  suffered  them  to  re- 
main outside  the  walls  of  their  Mellah  after  sunset. 
Some  of  the  Moors  themselves  stood  aside  and 
watched,  but  at  a  distance,  leaving  a  vacant  space 
to  denote  the  distinction  between  them.  The  scribes 
sat  in  their  open  booths,  pretending  to  read  their 
Koran  or  to  write  with  their  reed  pens;  the  gun- 
smiths stood  at  their  shop-doors;  and  the  country 
Berbers,  crowded  out  of  their  usual  camping  ground 
on  the  Sok,  squatted  on  the  vacant  spots  adjacent. 


176  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

All  looked  on  eagerly,  but  apparently  impassively,  at 
the  vast  company  of  Jews. 

And  so  great  was  the  concourse  of  these  people, 
and  so  wild  their  commotion,  that  they  were  like 
nothing  else  but  a  sea  broken  by  tempestuous  winds. 
The  market-place  rang  as  a  vault  with  the  sounds 
of  their  voices,  their  harsh  cries,  their  protests,  their 
pleadings,  their  entreaties,  and  all  the  fury  of  their 
brazen  throats.  And  out  of  their  loud  uproar  one 
name  above  all  other  names  rose  in  the  air  on  every 
side.  It  was  the  name  of  Israel  ben  Oliel.  Against 
him  they  were  breathing  out  threats,  foretelling  im- 
minent dangers  from  the  hand  of  man,  and  predict- 
ing fresh  judgments  from  God.  There  was  no  evil 
which  had  befallen  him  early  or  late  but  they  were 
remembering  it,  and  reckoning  it  up  and  rejoicing 
in  it.  And  there  was  no  evil  which  had  befallen 
themselves  but  they  were  laying  it  to  his  charge. 

Yesterday,  when  they  passed  through  the  town  in 
their  procession  of  penance,  following  their  Grand 
Rabbi  as  he  walked  abreast  of  the  Imam,  that  they 
might  call  on  God  to  destroy  the  eggs  of  the  locust, 
they  had  expected  the  heavens  to  open  over  their 
heads,  and  to  feel  the  rain  fall  instantly.  The  heav- 
ens had  not  opened,  the  rain  had  not  fallen,  the 
thick  hot  cake  as  of  baked  air  had  continued  to  hang 
and  to  palpitate  in  the  sky,  and  the  fierce  sun  had 
beaten  down  as  before  on  the  parched  and  scorching 
earth.  Seeing  this,  as  their  petitions  ended,  while 
the  Muslims  went  back  to  their  houses,  disappointed 
but  resigned,  and  muttering  to  themselves,  "  It  is 
written!*'  they  had  returned  to  their  synagogues, 
convinced  that  the  plague  was  a  judgment,  and  re- 
solved, like  the  sailors  of  the  ship  going  down  to 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  177 

Tarshish,  to  cast  lots  and  to  know  for  whose  cause 
the  evil  was  upon  them. 

They  were  more  than  a  hundred  and  twenty  fam- 
ilies, and  had  thought  they  were  therefore  entitled 
to  elect  a  Synhedrin.  This  was  in  defiance  of  cere- 
monial law,  for  they  knew  full  well  that  the  forma- 
tion of  a  Synhedrin  and  the  right  to  try  a  capital 
charge  had  long  been  forbidden.  But  they  were 
face  to  face  with  death,  and  hence  the  anachronism 
had  been  adopted,  and  they  had  fallen  back  on 
the  custom  of  their  fathers.  So  three-and-twenty 
judges  they  had  appointed,  without  usurers,  or  slave- 
dealers,  or  gamblers,  or  aged  men  or  childless  ones. 

The  judges  had  sat  in  session  the  same  night, 
and  their  judgment  had  been  unanimous.  The  lot 
of  Jonah  had  fallen  on  Israel.  He  had  sold  himself 
to  their  masters  and  enemies,  the  Moors,  against  the 
hope  and  interest  of  his  own  people;  he  had  driven 
some  of  the  sons  of  his  race  and  nation  into  exile 
in  distant  cities;  he  had  brought  others  to  the  Kas- 
bah,  and  yet  others  to  death:  he  was  a  man  at  open 
enmity  with  God,  and  God  had  given  him,  as  a  mark 
of  His  displeasure,  a  child  who  was  cursed  with  devils, 
a  daughter  who  had  been  born  blind  and  dumb  and 
deaf,  and  was  still  without  sight  and  speech. 

Could  the  hand  of  God's  anger  be  more  plain  if 
it  were  printed  in  fire  upon  the  sky?  Israel  was  the 
evil  one  for  whose  sin  they  suffered  this  devastat- 
ing plague.  The  Lord  was  rebuking  them  for  spar- 
ing him,  even  as  He  had  rebuked  Saul  for  sparing 
the  king  and  cattle  of  the  Amalekites.  Seventeen 
years  and  more  he  had  been  among  them  without 
being  of  them,  never  entering  a  synagogue,  never 
observing  a  fast,  never  joining  in  a  feast.     Not  until 


178  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

their  judgment  went  out  against  him  would  God's 
anger  be  appeased.  Let  them  cut  him  off  from  the 
children  of  his  race,  and  the  blessed  rain  would  fall 
from  heaven,  and  the  thirsty  earth  would  drink  it, 
and  the  eggs  of  the  locust  would  be  destroyed.  But 
let  them  put  off  any  longer  their  rightful  task  and 
duty  before  God  and  before  the  people,  and  their 
evil  time  would  soon  come.  Within  eight-and-twen- 
ty  days  the  eggs  would  be  hatched,  and  within  eight- 
and-forty  other  days  the  young  locust  would  have 
wings.  Before  the  end  of  those  seventy-and-six  days 
the  harvest  of  wheat  and  barley  would  be  yellow  to 
the  scythe  and  ripe  for  the  granary,  but  the  locust 
would  cover  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  there  would 
be  no  grain  to  gather.  The  scythe  would  be  idle, 
the  granaries  would  be  empty,  the  tillers  of  the 
ground  would  come  hungry  into  the  markets,  and 
they  themselves  that  were  town-dwellers  and  trades- 
men would  be  perishing  for  bread,  both  they  and 
their  children  with  them. 

Thus  in  Israel's  absence,  while  he  was  away  at 
Shawan,  the  three-and-twenty  judges  of  the  new 
Synhedrin  of  Tetuan  had — contrary  to  Jewish  cus- 
tom— tried  and  convicted  him.  God  would  not  let 
them  perish  for  this  man's  life,  and  neither  would 
He  charge  them  with  his  blood. 

Nevertheless,  judges  though  they  were,  they 
could  not  kill  him.  They  could  only  appeal  against 
him  to  the  Kaid.  And  what  could  they  say?  That 
the  Lord  had  sent  this  plague  of  locusts  in  punish- 
ment of  [srael's  sin?  Ben  Aboo  would  laugh  in  their 
faces  and  answer  them,  "  It  is  written."  That  to 
appease  God's  wrath  it  was  expedient  that  this  Jew 
should  die?     Convince  the  Muslim  that  a  Jew  had 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  179 

brought  this  desolation  upon  the  land  of  the  She- 
reefs,  and  he  would  arise,  and  his  soldiers  with  him, 
and  the  whole  community  of  the  Jewish  people  would 
be  destroyed. 

The  judges  had  laid  their  heads  together.  It 
was  idle  to  appeal  to  Ben  Aboo  against  Israel  on  any 
ground  of  belief.  Nay,  it  was  more  than  idle,  for  it 
was  dangerous.  There  was  nothing  in  common  be- 
tween his  faith  and  their  own.  His  God  was  not 
their  God,  save  in  name  only.  The  one  was  Allah, 
great,  stern,  relentless,  inexorable,  not  to  be  moved, 
striding  on  to  an  inevitable  end,  heedless  of  man, 
and  trampling  upon  him — though  sometimes  mocked 
with  the  names  of  the  Compassionate  and  the  Mer- 
ciful. But  the  other  was  Jehovah,  the  father  of  His 
people  Israel,  caring  for  them,  upholding  them,  guid- 
ing the  world  for  them,  conquering  for  them,  but 
visiting  His  anger  upon  them  when  they  fell  away 
from  Him. 

The  three-and-twenty  judges  in  session  in  the 
synagogue  up  the  narrow  lane  of  the  Sok  el  Foki  had 
sat  far  into  the  night,  with  the  light  of  the  oil-lamps 
gleaming  on  their  perplexed  and  ashen  faces.  Some 
other  ground  of  appeal  against  Israel  had  to  be  found, 
and  they  could  not  find  it.  At  length  they  had  re- 
membered that,  by  ancient  law  and  custom,  the  trial 
of  an  Israelite,  for  life  or  death,  must  end  an  hour 
after  sunset.  Also  they  had  been  reminded  that 
the  day  that  heard  the  evidence  in  a  capital  case 
must  not  be  the  same  whereon  the  verdict  was  pro- 
nounced. So  they  had  broken  up  and  returned 
home.  And,  going  out  at  the  gate,  they  had  told 
the  crowds  that  waited  there  that  judgment  had 
fallen  upon  Israel  ben  Oliel,  but  that  his  doom 
13 


180  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

could  not  be  made  known  until  sunset  on  the  fol- 
lowing day. 

That  time  was  now  come.  In  eagerness  and  im- 
patience, in  hot  blood  and  anger,  the  people  had 
gathered  in  the  Sok  three  hours  after  midday.  The 
judges  had  reassembled  in  the  synagogue  in  the  early 
morning.  They  had  not  broken  bread  since  yester- 
day, for  the  day  that  condemned  a  son  of  Israel  to 
death  must  be  a  fast-day  to  his  judges. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  the  doors  of  the  svna- 
gogue  were  thrown  open.  The  sentence  was  not 
ready  yet,  but  the  judges  in  council  were  near  to  their 
decision.  At  the  open  door  the  reader  of  the  syna- 
gogue had  stationed  himself,  holding  a  flag  in  his 
hand.  Under  the  gate  of  the  Mellah  a  second  mes- 
senger was  standing,  so  placed  that  he  could  see  the 
movement  of  the  flag.  If  the  flag  fell,  the  sentence 
would  be  "  death,"  and  the  man  under  the  gate 
would  carry  the  tidings  to  the  people  gathered  in  the 
market-place.  Then  the  three-and-twenty  judges 
would  come  in  procession  and  tell  what  steps  had 
been  taken  that  the  doom  pronounced  might  be  car- 
ried into  effect. 

Amid  all  their  loud  uproar,  and  notwithstanding 
the  wild  anger  which  seemed  to  consume  them,  the 
people  turned  at  intervals  of  a  few  minutes  to  glance 
back  towards  the  Mellah  gate. 

If  the  angels  were  looking  down,  surely  it  was  a 
pitiful  sight — these  children  of  Zion  in  a  strange 
land,  where  they  were  held  as  dogs  and  vermin  and 
human  scavengers  to  the  Muslim;  thinking  and 
-peaking  and  acting  as  their  fathers  had  done  any 
time  for  five  thousand  years  before;  again  judging 
it  expedient  that  one  man  should  die  rather  than  the 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  181 

whole  people  be  brought  to  destruction;  again  prob- 
ing their  crafty  heads,  if  not  their  hearts,  for  an 
artifice  whereby  their  scapegoat  might  be  killed  by 
the  hand  of  their  enemy:  children  indeed,  for  all 
that  some  of  their  heads  were  bald,  and  some  of  their 
beards  were  grizzled,  and  some  of  their  faces  were 
wrinkled  and  hard  and  fierce;  little  children  of  God 
writhing  in  the  grip  of  their  great  trouble. 

Such  was  the  scene  to  which  Naomi  had  come, 
and  such  had  been  the  doings  of  the  town  since  the 
hour  when  her  father  left  her.  What  hand  had  led 
her?  What  power  had  taught  her?  Was  it  merely 
that  her  far-reaching  ears  had  heard  the  tumult? 
Had  some  unknown  sense,  groping  in  darkness,  filled 
her  with  a  vague  terror,  too  indefinite  to  be  called  a 
thought,  of  great  and  impending  evil?  Or  was  it 
some  other  influence,  some  higher  leading?  Was  it 
that  the  Lord  was  in  His  heaven  that  night  as  always, 
and  that  when  the  two  black  bondwomen  in  their 
helpless  fear  were  following  the  blind  maiden  through 
the  darkening  streets  she  in  her  turn  was  following 
God? 

When  Fatimah  and  Habeebah  saw  what  it  was 
to  which  Naomi  had  led  them,  though  they  were 
sorely  concerned  at  it,  yet  they  were  relieved  as  well, 
and  put  by  the  worst  of  the  fears  with  which  her 
strange  behaviour  had  infected  them.  And  remem- 
bering that  she  was  the  daughter  of  Israel,  and  they 
were  his  servants,  and  neither  thinking  themselves 
safe  from  danger  if  they  stayed  any  longer  where 
his  name  was  bandied  about  as  a  reproach,  nor  fully 
knowing  how  many  of  the  curses  that  were  heaped 
upon  him  found  a  way  to  Naomi's  mind,  they  were 
for  turning  again  and  going  back  to  the  house. 


182  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  Come,"  said  Habcebah;  "  let  us  go — we  are  not 


J5 


safe. 

"  Yes,"  said  Fatimah;  "  let  us  take  the  poor  child 
back." 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  Habeebah,  and  she  laid 
hold  of  Naomi's  hand. 

"  Naomi,  Naomi,"  whispered  Fatimah  in  the  girl's 
ear,  "  we  are  going  home.     Come,  dearest,  come." 

But  Naomi  was  not  to  be  moved.  No  gentle 
voice  availed  to  stir  her.  She  stood  where  she  had 
placed  herself  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  motion- 
less save  for  her  heaving  bosom  and  trembling  limbs, 
and  silent  save  for  her  loud  breathing  and  the  low 
muttering  of  her  pale  lips,  yet  listening  eagerly  with 
her  neck  outstretched. 

And  if,  as  she  listened,  any  human  eye  could  have 
looked  in  on  her  dumb  and  imprisoned  soul,  the  tu- 
mult it  would  have  seen  must  have  been  terrible. 
For,  though  no  one  knew  it  as  a  certainty,  yet  in 
her  darkness  and  muteness  since  the  coming  of  her 
gift  of  hearing  she  had  been  learning  speech  and  the 
different  voices  of  men.  All  that  was  spoken  in 
that  crowd  she  understood,  and  never  a  word  escaped 
her,  and  what  others  saw  she  felt,  only  nearer  and 
more  terrible,  because  wrapped  in  the  darkness  out- 
side her  eyes  that  were  blind. 

First  there  came  a  lull  in  the  general  clamour, 
and  then  a  coarse,  jarring,  stridulous  voice  rose  in 
the  air.  Naomi  knew  whose  voice  it  was — it  was  the 
voice  of  old  Abraham  Pigman,  the  usurer. 

"  Brothers  of  Tetuan,"  the  old  man  cried,  "  what 
are  we  waiting  for?  For  the  verdict  of  the  judges? 
Who  wants  their  verdict?  There  is  only  one  thing 
to  do.     Let  us  ask  the  Kaid  to  remove  this  man. 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  183 

The  Kaid  is  a  humane  master.  If  he  has  sometimes 
worked  wrong  hy  us,  he  has  been  driven  to  do  that 
which  in  his  soul  he  abhors.  Let  us  go  to  him  and 
say:  '  Lord  Basha,  through  five-and-twenty  years  this 
man  of  our  people  has  stood  over  us  to  oppress  us, 
and  your  servants  have  suffered  and  been  silent.  In 
that  time  we  have  seen  the  seed  of  Israel  hunted 
from  the  houses  of  their  fathers  where  they  have 
lived  since  their  birth.  We  have  seen  them  buffeted 
and  smitten,  without  a  resting-place  for  the  soles  of 
their  feet,  and  perishing  in  hunger  and  thirst  and 
nakedness  and  the  want  of  all  things.  Is  this  to  your 
honour,  or  your  glory,  or  your  profit  ?  '  " 

The  people  broke  into  loud  cries  of  approval, 
and  when  they  were  once  more  silent,  the  thick  voice 
went  on:  "And  not  the  seed  of  Israel  only,  but  the 
sons  of  Islam  also,  has  this  man  plunged  in  the 
depths  of  misery.  Under  a  Sultan  who  desires  lib- 
erty and  a  Kaid  who  loves  justice,  in  a  land  that 
breathes  freedom  and  a  city  that  is  favoured  of  God, 
our  brethren  the  Muslimeen  sink  with  us  in  deep 
mire  where  there  is  no  standing.  Every  day  brings 
to  both  its  burden  of  fresh  sorrow.  At  this  moment 
a  plague  is  upon  us.  The  country  is  bare;  the  town 
is  overflowing;  every  man  stumbles  over  his  fellow; 
our  lives  hang  in  doubt;  in  the  morning  we  say, 
'  Would  it  were  evening; '  in  the  evening  we  say, 
'  Would  it  were  morning; '  stretch  out  your  hand 
and  help  us!  " 

Again  the  crowd  burst  into  shouts  of  assent,  and 
the  stridulous  voice  continued:  "Let  us  say  to  him, 
*  Lord  Basha,  there  is  no  way  of  help  but  one.  Pluck 
down  this  man  that  is  set  over  us.  He  belongs  to 
our  own  race  and  nation;  but  give  us  a  master  of  any 


184  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

other  race  and  nation;  any  Moor,  any  Arab,  any  Ber- 
ber, any  negro;  only  take  back  this  man  of  our  own 
people,  and  your  servants  will  bless  you.' " 

The  old  man's  voice  was  drowned  in  great  shouts 
of  "  Ben  Aboo!  "  "To  Ben  Aboo!"  "  Why  wait 
for  the  judges?  "  "  To  the  Kasbah!  "  "  The  Kas- 
bah!" 

But  a  second  voice  came  piercing  through  the 
boom  and  plash  of  those  waves  of  sound,  and  it  was 
thin  and  shrill  as  the  cry  of  a  pea-hen.  Naomi  knew 
this  voice  also — it  was  the  voice  of  Judah  ben  Lolo, 
the  elder  of  the  synagogue,  who  would  have  been 
sitting  among  the  three-and-twenty  judges  but  that 
he  was  a  usurer  also. 

"Why  go  to  the  Kaid?"  said  the  voice  like  a 
pea-hen.  "  Does  the  Basha  love  this  Israel  ben  Oliel? 
Has  he  of  late  given  many  signs  of  such  affection? 
Bethink  you,  brothers,  and  act  wisely!  Would  not 
Ben  Aboo  be  glad  to  have  done  with  this  servant 
who  has  been  so  long  his  master?  Then  why  trouble 
him  with  your  grievance?  Act  for  yourselves,  and 
the  Kaid  will  thank  you!  And  well  may  this  Israel 
ben  Oliel  praise  the  Lord  and  worship  Him,  that  He 
has  not  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  His  people  to  play 
the  game  of  breaker  of  tyrants  by  the  spilling 
of  blood,  as  the  races  around  them,  the  Arabs  and 
the  Berbers,  who  arc  of  a  temper  more  warm  by 
nature,  must  long  ago  have  done,  and  that  not 
unjustly  either,  or  altogether  to  the  displeasure  of 
a  Kaid  who  is  good  and  humane  and  merciful,  and 
has  never  loved  thai  his  poor  people  should  be  op- 
pressed." 

At  this  word,  though  it  made  pretence  to  com- 
mend the  temperance  of  the  crowd,  their  fury  broke 


THE  MEETING   ON  THE  SOK.  185 

out  more  loudly  than  before.  "  Away  with  the 
man! ';  "Away  with  him!  "  rang  out  on  every  side 
in  countless  voices,  husky  and  clear,  gruff  and  sharp, 
piping  and  deep.  Not  a  voice  of  them  all  called  for 
mercy  or  for  patience. 

While  the  anger  of  the  people  surged  and  broke 
in  the  air,  a  third  voice  came  through  the  tumult, 
and  Naomi  knew  it,  for  it  was  the  harsh  voice  of 
Reuben  Maliki,  the  silversmith  and  keeper  of  the 
poor-box. 

"  And  does  God,"  said  Reuben,  "  any  more  than 
Ben  Aboo — blessings  on  his  life! — love  that  His  peo- 
ple should  be  oppressed?  How  has  He  dealt  with 
this  Israel  ben  Oliel?  Does  He  stand  steadfastly  be- 
side him,  or  has  His  hand  gone  out  against  him? 
Since  the  day  he  came  here,  five-and-twenty  years 
ago,  has  God  saved  him  or  smitten  him?  Remember 
Ruth,  his  wife,  how  she  died  young!  Remember  her 
father,  our  old  Grand  Rabbi,  David  ben  Ohana,  how 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  fell  upon  him  on  the  night  of 
the  day  whereon  his  daughter  was  married!  Re- 
member this  girl  Naomi,  this  offspring  of  sin,  this 
accursed  and  afflicted  one,  still  blind  and  speech- 
less! " 

Then  the  voices  of  the  crowd  came  to  Naomi's 
ears  like  the  neigh  of  a  breathless  horse.  Fatimah 
had  laid  hold  of  her  gown  and  was  whispering, 
"  Come!  Let  us  away! ';  But  Naomi  only  clutched 
her  hand  and  trembled. 

The  harsh  voice  of  Reuben  Maliki  rose  in  the  air 
again.  "  Do  you  say  that  the  Lord  gave  him  riches? 
Behold  him! — he  swallowed  them  down,  but  has  he 
not  vomited  them  up?  Examine  him! — that  which 
he  took  bv  extortions  has  he  not  been  made  to  re- 


186  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

store?  Does  God's  anger  smoke  against  him?  An- 
swer me,  yes  or  no!  " 

Like  a  bolt  out  of  the  sky  there  came  a  great 
shout  of  "  Yes!  "  And  instantly  afterwards,  from 
another  direction,  there  came  a  fourth  voice,  a  peev- 
ish, tremulous  voice,  the  voice  of  an  old  woman. 
Naomi  knew  it — it  was  the  voice  of  Rebecca  Bensa- 
bott,  ninety-and-odd  years  of  age,  and  still  deaf  as  a 
stone. 

"Tut!  What  is  all  this  talking  about?"  she 
snapped  and  grunted.  "  Reuben  Maliki,  save  your 
wind  for  your  widows — you  don't  give  them  too  much 
of  it.  And,  Abraham  Pigman,  go  home  to  your 
money-bags.  I  am  an  old  fool,  am  I?  Well,  I've 
the  more  right  to  speak  plain.  What  are  we  wait- 
ing here  for?  The  judges?  Pooh!  The  sentence! 
Fiddle-faddle!  It  is  Israel  ben  Oliel,  isn't  it?  Then 
stone  him!  What  are  you  afraid  of?  The  Kaid? 
He'll  laugh  in  your  faces.  A  blood-feud?  Who  is 
to  wage  it?  A  ransom?  Who  is  to  ask  for  it?  Only 
this  mute,  this  Naomi,  and  you'll  have  to  work  her 
a  miracle  and  find  her  a  tongue  first.  Out  on  you! 
Men?     Pshaw!     You  are  children!  " 

The  people  laughed — it  was  the  hard,  grating, 
hollow  laugh  that  sets  the  teeth  on  edge  behind  the 
lips  that  utter  it.  Instantly  the  voices  of  the  crowd 
broke  up  into  a  discordant  clangour,  like  to  the  coun- 
ter-currents of  an  angry  sea.  "  She's  right,"  said  a 
shrill  voice.  "  lie  deserves  it,"  snuffled  a  nasal  one. 
"  At  least  let  us  drive  him  out  of  the  town,"  said  a 
third  gruff  voice.  "  To  his  house!  "  cried  a  fourth 
voice,  that  pealed  over  all.  "  To  his  house!  "  came 
then  from  countless  hungry  throats. 

"  Come,  let  us  go,"  whispered  Fatimah  to  Naomi, 


THE   MEETING  ON  THE  SDK.  187 

and  again  she  laid  hold  of  her  arm  to  force  her  away. 
But  Naomi  shook  off  her  hand,  and  muttered  strange 
sounds  to  herself. 

"To  his  house!  Sack  it!  Drive  the  tyrant 
out!  "  the  people  howled  in  a  hundred  rasping  voices; 
but,  before  any  one  had  stirred,  a  man  riding  a  mule 
had  forced  his  way  into  the  middle  of  the  crowd. 

It  was  the  messenger  from  under  the  Mellah  gate. 
In  their  new  frenzy  the  people  had  forgotten  him. 
He  had  come  to  make  known  the  decision  of  the 
Synhedrin.  The  flag  had  fallen;  the  sentence  was 
death. 

Hearing  this  doom,  the  people  heard  no  more, 
and  neither  did  they  wait  for  the  procession  of  the 
judges,  that  they  might  learn  of  the  means  whereby 
they,  who  were  not  masters  in  their  own  house,  might 
carry  the  sentence  into  effect.  The  procession  was 
even  then  forming.  It  was  coming  out  of  the  syna- 
gogue; it  was  passing  under  the  gate  of  the  Mellah; 
it  was  approaching  the  Sok  el  Foki.  The  Rabbis 
walked  in  front  of  it.  At  its  tail  came  four  Moors 
with  shamefaced  looks.  They  were  the  soldiers  and 
muleteers  whom  Israel  had  hired  when  he  set  out  on 
his  pilgrimage  to  that  enemy  of  all  Kaids  and  Bashas, 
Mohammed  of  Mequinez.  By-and-by  they  were  to 
betray  him  to  Ben  Aboo. 

But  no  one  saw  either  Rabbis  or  Moors.  The 
people  were  twisting  and  turning  like  worms  on  an 
upturned  turf.  "  Why  sack  his  house  ?  "  cried  some. 
"Why  drive  him  out?"  cried  others.  "A  poor  re- 
venge! "     "  Kill  him!  "     "  Kill  him!  " 

At  the  sound  of  that  word,  never  before  spoken, 
though  every  ear  had  waited  for  it,  the  shouts  of  the 
crowd  rose  to  madness.     But  suddenly  in  the  midst 


188  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

of  the  wild  vociferations  there  was  a  shrill  cry  of 
"  He  is  there!  "  and  then  there  was  a  great  silence. 

It  was  Israel  himself.  He  was  coming  afoot  down 
the  lane  under  the  town  walls  from  the  gate  called 
the  Bab  Toot,  where  the  road  comes  in  from  Shawan. 
At  fifty  paces  behind  him  Ali,  the  black  boy,  was 
riding  one  mule  and  leading  another. 

He  was  returning  from  the  prison,  and  thinking 
how  the  poor  followers  of  Absalam,  after  he  had  fed 
them  of  his  poverty,  had  blest  him  out  of  their  dry 
throats,  saying,  "  May  the  God  of  Jacob  bless  you 
also,  brother!  "  and  "  May  the  child  of  your  wife  be 
blessed!  ':  Ah!  those  blessings,  he  could  hear  them 
still!  They  followed  him  as  he  walked.  He  did  not 
fly  from  them  any  longer,  for  they  sang  in  his  ears 
and  were  like  music  in  his  melted  soul.  Once  before 
he  had  heard  such  music.  It  was  in  England.  The 
organ  swelled  and  the  voices  rose,  and  he  was  a  lonely 
boy,  for  his  mother  lay  in  her  grave  at  his  feet.  His 
mother!  How  strangely  his  heart  was  softened  to- 
wards himself  and  all  the  world!  And  Ruth!  He 
could  think  of  nothing  without  tenderness.  And 
Xaomi!  Ah!  t lie  sun  was  nigh  two  hours  down,  and 
Xaomi  would  be  waiting  for  him  at  home,  for  she 
was  as  one  that  had  no  life  without  his  presence. 
What  would  befall  if  he  were  taken  from  her?  That 
thought  was  like  the  sweeping  of  a  dead  hand  across 
his  face.  So  his  body  stooped  as  he  walked  with  his 
staff,  and  his  head  was  held  down,  and  his  step  was 
heavy. 

Thus  the  old  lion  came  on  to  the  market-place, 
where  the  people  were  gathered  together  as  wolves 
to  devour  him.  On  he  came,  seeing  nothing  and 
hearing   nothing  and   fearing  nothing,   and  in   the 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  SOK.  189 

silence  of  the  first  surprise  at  sight  of  him  his  foot- 
steps were  heard  on  the  stones. 

Naomi  heard  them. 

Then  it  seemed  to  Naomi's  ears  that  a  voice  fell, 
as  it  were,  out  of  the  air,  crying,  "  God  has  given 
him  into  our  hands! ';  After  that  all  sounds  seemed 
to  Naomi  to  fade  far  away,  and  to  come  to  her 
muffled  and  stifled  by  the  distance. 

But  with  a  loud  shout,  as  if  it  had  been  a  shout 
out  of  one  great  throat,  the  crowd  encompassed 
Israel,  crying,  "  Kill  him!  "  Israel  stopped,  and 
lifted  his  heavy  face  upon  the  people;  but  neither 
did  he  cry  out  nor  make  any  struggle  for  his  life. 
He  stood  erect  and  silent  in  their  midst,  and  mass- 
ive and  square.  His  brave  bearing  did  not  break 
their  fury.  They  fell  upon  him,  a  hundred  hands 
together.  One  struck  at  his  face,  another  tore  at  his 
long  grey  hair,  and  a  third  thrust  him  down  on  to 
his  knees. 

No  one  had  yet  observed  on  the  outer  rim  of 
the  crowd  the  pale  slight  girl  that  stood  there — blind, 
dumb,  powerless,  frail,  and  so  softly  beautiful — a 
waif  on  the  margin  of  a  tempestuous  sea.  Through 
the  thick  barriers  of  Naomi's  senses  everything  was 
coming  to  her  ugly  and  terrible.  Her  father  was 
there!     They  were  tearing  him  to  pieces! 

Suddenly  she  was  gone  from  the  side  of  the  two 
black  women.  Like  a  flash  of  light  she  had  passed 
through  the  bellowing  throng.  She  had  thrust  her- 
self between  the  people  and  her  father,  who  was  on 
the  ground:  she  was  standing  over  him  with  both 
arms  upraised,  and  at  that  instant  God  loosed  her 
tongue,  for  she  was  crying,  "  Mercy!     Mercy! '; 

Then  the  crowd  fell  back  in  great  fear.     The 


190  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

dumb  bad  spoken.  No  man  dared  to  toucb  Israel 
any  more.  The  hands  that  had  been  lifted  against 
him  dropped  back  useless,  and  a  wide  circle  formed 
round  him.  In  the  midst  of  it  stood  Naomi.  Her 
blind  face  quivered;  she  seemed  to  glow  like  a  spirit. 
And  like  a  spirit  she  had  driven  back  the  people  from 
their  deed  of  blood  as  with  the  voice  of  God — she, 
the  blind,  the  frail,  the  helpless. 

Israel  rose  to  his  feet,  for  no  man  touched  him 
again,  and  the  procession  of  judges,  which  had  now 
come  up,  was  silent.  And,  seeing  how  it  was  that  in 
the  hour  of  his  great  need  the  gift  of  speech  had 
come  upon  Naomi,  his  heart  rose  big  within  him,  and 
he  tried  to  triumph  over  his  enemies  and  say,  "  You 
thought  God's  arm  was  against  me,  but  behold  how 
God  has  saved  me  out  of  your  hands." 

But  he  could  not  speak.  The  dumbness  that  had 
fallen  from  his  daughter  seemed  to  have  dropped 
upon  him. 

At  that  moment  Naomi  turned  to  him  and  said, 
"  Father!  " 

Then  the  cup  of  Israel's  heart  was  full.  His 
throat  choked  him.  So  he  took  her  by  the  hand  in 
silence,  and  down  a  long  alley  of  the  people  they 
passed  through  the  Mellah  gate  and  went  home  to 
their  house.  Her  eyes  were  to  the  earth,  and  she 
wept  as  she  walked;  but  his  face  was  lifted  up,  and 
his  tears  and  his  blood  ran  down  his  cheeks  together. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

naomi's  blindness. 

Although  Naomi,  in  her  darkness  and  muteness 
since  the  coming  of  her  gift  of  hearing,  had  learned 
to  know  and  understand  the  different  tongues  of 
men,  yet  now  that  she  tried  to  call  forth  words  for 
herself,  and  to  put  out  her  own  voice  in  the  use  of 
them,  she  was  no  more  than  a  child  untaught  in  the 
ways  of  speech.  She  tripped  and  stammered  and 
broke  down,  and  had  to  learn  to  speak  as  any  helpless 
little  one  must  do,  only  quicker,  because  her  need  was 
greater,  and  better,  because  she  was  a  girl  and  not  a 
babe.  And,  perceiving  her  own  awkwardness,  and 
thinking  shame  of  it,  and  being  abashed  by  the  pa- 
tient waiting  of  her  father  when  she  halted  in  her 
talk  with  him,  and  still  more  humbled  by  Ali's  im- 
petuous help  when  she  miscalled  her  syllables,  she 
fell  back  again  on  silence. 

Hardly  could  she  be  got  to  speak  at  all.  For 
some  days  after  the  night  when  her  emancipated 
tongue  had  rescued  Israel  from  his  enemies  on  the 
Sok,  she  seemed  to  say  nothing  beyond  "  Yes  "  and 
"  No,"  notwithstanding  Ali's  eager  questions,  and 
Fatimah's  tearful  blessings,  and  Habeebah's  breath- 
less invocations,  and  also  notwithstanding  the  hun- 
ger and  thirst  of  the  heart  of  her  father,  who,  re- 
membering with  many  throbs  of  joy  the  voice  that  he 

191 


192  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

heard  with  his  dreaming  ears  when  he  slept  on  the 
straw  hed  of  the  poor  fondak  at  Wazan,  would  have 
given  worlds  of  gold,  if  he  had  possessed  them  still, 
to  hear  it  constantly  with  his  waking  ears. 

"  Come,  come,  little  one;  come,  come,  speak  to 
us,  only  speak,"  Israel  would  say. 

His  appeals  were  useless.  Naomi  would  smile 
and  hang  her  sunny  head,  and  lift  her  father's  hairy 
hand  to  her  cheek,  and  say  nothing. 

But  just  about  a  week  later  a  beautiful  thing 
occurred.  Israel  was  returning  to  the  Mellah  after 
one  of  his  secret  excursions  in  the  poor  quarter  of 
the  Bab  Kamooz,  where  he  had  spent  the  remainder 
of  the  money  which  old  Reuben  had  paid  him  for 
the  casket  of  his  wife's  jewels.  The  night  was  warm, 
the  moon  shone  with  steady  lustre,  and  the  stars 
were  almost  obliterated  as  separate  lights  by  a  lu- 
minous silvery  haze.  It  was  late,  very  late,  and  far 
and  near  the  town  was  still. 

With  his  innocent  disguise,  his  Moorish  jellab, 
hung  over  his  arm,  Israel  had  passed  the  Mellah  gate, 
being  the  only  Jew  who  was  allowed  to  cross  it  after 
sunset.  He  was  feeling  happy  as  he  walked  home 
through  the  sleeping  streets,  with  his  black  shadow 
going  in  front.  The  magic  of  the  summer  night 
possessed  him,  and  his  soul  was  full  of  joy. 

All  his  misgivings  had  fallen  away.  The  coming 
to  Naomi  of  the  gift  of  speech  had  seemed  to  banish 
from  his  mind  the  dark  spirit  of  the  past.  He  had 
no  heart  for  reprisals  upon  the  enemies  who  had 
sought  to  kill  him.  Without  that  blind  effort  on 
their  part  perhaps  his  great  blessing  had  not  come 
to  pass.  Man's  extremity  had  indeed  been  God's 
opportunity,  and  Ruth's  vision  was  all  but  realised. 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  193 

Ah,  Euth!  Ruth!  It  had  escaped  Israel's  notice 
until  then  that  he  had  been  thinking  of  his  dead 
wife  the  whole  night  through.  When  he  put  it  to 
himself  so,  he  saw  the  reason  of  it  at  once.  It  was 
because  there  was  a  sort  of  secret  charm  in  the  cer- 
tainty that  where  she  was  she  must  surely  know  that 
her  dream  was  come  true.  There  was  also  a  kind 
of  bitter  pathos  in  the  regret  that  she  was  only  an 
angel  now,  and  not  a  woman;  therefore  she  could 
not  be  with  him  to  share  his  human  joy. 

As  he  walked  through  the  Mellah,  Israel  thought 
of  her  again:  how  she  had  sung  by  the  cradle  to 
her  babe  that  could  not  hear.  Sung?  Yes,  he 
could  almost  fancy  that  he  heard  her  singing  yet. 
That  voice  so  soft,  so  clear  even  in  its  whispers — 
there  had  been  nothing  like  it  in  all  the  world.  And 
her  songs!  Israel  could  also  fancy  that  he  heard 
her  favourite  one.  It  was  a  song  of  love,  a  pure  but 
passionate  melody  wherein  his  own  delicious  happi- 
ness in  the  earlier  days,  before  the  death  of  the  old 
Grand  Rabbi,  had  seemed  to  speak  and  sing. 

Israel  began  to  laugh  at  himself  as  he  walked. 
To  think  that  the  warmth  and  softness  of  the  night, 
the  sweet  caressing  night,  the  light  and  beauty  of  the 
moon  and  the  stillness  and  slumber  of  the  town, 
could  betray  an  old  fellow  into  forgotten  dreams  like 
these! 

He  had  taken  out  of  his  pocket  the  big  key  of 
the  clamped  door  to  his  house,  and  was  crossing  the 
shadowed  lane  in  front  of  it,  when  suddenly  he 
thought  he  heard  music  floating  in  the  air  above 
him.  He  stopped  and  listened.  Then  he  had  no 
longer  any  doubt.  It  was  music,  it  was  singing;  he 
knew  the  song,  and  he  knew  the  voice.     The  song 


194  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

was  the  song  he  had  been  thinking  of,  and  the  voice 
was  the  voice  of  Ruth. 

0  where  is  Love? 

Where,  where  is  Love? 
Is  it  of  heavenly  birth  ? 
Is  it  a  thing  of  earth  ? 

Where,  where  is  Love  ? 

Israel  felt  himself  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  he 
stood  some  time  without  stirring.  He  looked  around. 
All  else  was  still.  The  night  was  as  silent  as  death. 
He  listened  attentively.  The  singing  seemed  to 
come  from  his  own  house.  Then  he  thought  he  must 
be  dreaming  still,  and  he  took  a  step  forward.  But 
he  stopped  again  and  covered  both  his  ears.  That 
was  of  no  avail,  for  when  he  removed  his  hands  the 
voice  was  there  as  before. 

A  shiver  ran  over  his  limbs,  yet  he  could  not  be- 
lieve what  his  soul  was  saying.  The  key  dropped 
out  of  his  hand  and  rang  on  the  stone.  When  the 
clangour  was  done  the  voice  continued.  Israel  be- 
thought him  then  that  his  household  must  be  asleep, 
and  it  flashed  on  his  mind  that  if  this  were  a  human 
voice  the  singing  ought  to  awaken  them.  Just  at 
that  moment  the  night  guard  went  by  and  saluted 
him.  "  God  bless  your  morning!  "  the  guard  cried; 
and  Israel  answered,  "  Your  morning  be  blessed! ': 
That  was  all.  The  guard  seemed  to  have  heard 
nothing.  His  footsteps  were  dying  away,  but  the 
voice  went  on. 

Then  a  strange  emotion  filled  Israel's  heart,  and 
he  reflected  that  even  if  it  were  Ruth  she  could  have 
come  on  no  evil  errand.  That  thought  gave  him 
courage,  and  he  pushed  forward  to  the  door.     As  he 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  195 

fumbled  the  key  into  the  lock  he  saw  that  a  beggar 
was  crouching  by  the  doorway  in  the  shadow  cast 
by  the  moonlight.  The  man  was  asleep.  Israel 
could  hear  his  breathing,  and  smell  his  rags.  Also 
he  could  hear  the  thud  of  his  own  temples  like  the 
beating  of  a  drum  in  his  brain. 

At  length,  as  he  was  groping  feebly  through  the 
crooked  passage,  a  new  thought  came  to  him.  "  Nao- 
mi," he  told  himself  in  a  whisper  of  awe.  It  was 
she.  By  the  full  flood  of  the  moonlight  in  the  patio 
he  saw  her.  She  was  on  the  balcony.  Her  beautiful 
white-robed  figure  was  half  sitting  on  the  rail,  half 
leaning  against  the  pillar.  The  whole  lustre  of  the 
moon  was  upon  her.  A  look  of  joy  beamed  on  her 
face.  She  was  singing  her  mother's  song  with  her 
mother's  voice,  and  all  the  air,  and  the  sky,  and 
the  quiet  white  town  seemed  to  listen: — 

Within  my  heart  a  voice 
Bids  earth  and  heaven  rejoice 
Sings — "  Love,  great  Love, 
0  come  and  claim  thine  own, 
0  come  and  take  thy  throne, 
Reign  ever  and  alone, 
Reign,  glorious  golden  Love." 

Then  Israel's  fear  was  turned  to  rapture.  Why 
had  he  not  thought  of  this  before?  Yet  how  could 
he  have  thought  of  it?  He  had  never  once  heard 
Naomi's  voice  save  in  the  utterance  of  single  words. 
But  again,  why  had  he  not  remembered  that  before 
the  tongues  of  children  can  speak  words  of  their  own 
they  sing  the  words  of  others? 

The  singing  ended,  and  then  Israel,  struggling 
with  his  dry  throat,  stepped  a  pace  forward — his 
14 


196  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

foot  grated  on  the  pavement — and  he  called  to  the 


singer- 


"  Naomi!" 

The  girl  bent  forward,  as  if  peering  down  into 
the  darkness,  but  Israel  could  see  that  her  fixed  eyes 
were  blind. 

"  My  father!  "  she  whispered. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  it?  "  said  Israel. 

"  Fatimah,  she  taught  me,"  Naomi  answered;  and 
then  she  added  quickly,  as  if  with  great  but  childlike 
pride,  saying  what  she  did  not  mean,  "  Oh  yes,  it 
was  I!     Was  I  not  beautiful?  " 

After  that  night  Naomi's  shyness  of  speech 
dropped  away  from  her,  and  what  was  left  was  only 
a  sweet  maidenly  unconsciousness  of  all  faults  and 
failings,  with  a  soft  and  playful  lisp  that  ran  in 
and  out  among  the  simple  words  that  fell  from  her 
red  lips  like  a  young  squirrel  among  the  fallen  leaves 
of  autumn.  It  would  be  a  long  task  to  tell  how  her 
lisping  tongue  turned  everything  then  to  favour  and 
to  prettiness.  On  the  coming  of  the  gift  of  hear- 
ing, the  world  had  first  spoken  to  her;  and  now,  on 
the  coming  of  the  gift  of  speech,  she  herself  was 
first  speaking  to  the  world.  What  did  she  tell  it  at 
that  first  sweet  greeting?  She  told  it  what  she  had 
been  thinking  of  it  in  those  mute  days  that  were 
gone,  when  she  had  neither  hearing  nor  speech,  but 
was  in  the  land  of  silence  as  well  as  in  the  land  of 
night. 

The  fancies  of  the  blind  maid  so  long  shut  up 
within  the  beautiful  casket  of  her  body  were  strange 
and  touching  ones.  Israel  took  delight  in  them  at 
the  beginning.  He  loved  to  probe  the  dark  places 
of  the  mind  they  came  from,  thinking  God  Himself 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  197 

must  surely  have  illumined  it  at  some  time  with  a 
light  that  no  man  knew,  so  startling  were  some  of 
Naomi's  replies,  so  tender  and  so  beautiful. 

One  evening,  not  long  after  she  had  first  spoken, 
he  was  sitting  with  her  on  the  roof  of  their  house 
as  the  sun  was  going  down  over  the  palpitating  plains 
towards  Arzila  and  Laraiche  and  the  great  sea  be- 
yond. Twilight  was  gathering  in  the  Feddan  under 
the  Mosque,  and  the  last  light  of  day,  which  had  par- 
leyed longest  with  the  snowy  heights  of  the  Keef 
Mountains,  was  glowring  only  on  the  sky  above  them. 

"  Sweetheart,"  said  Israel,  "  what  is  the  sun?  " 

"  The  sun  is  a  fire  in  the  sky,"  Naomi  answered: 
"  my  Father  lights  it  every  morning." 

"  Truly,  little  one,  thy  Father  lights  it,"  said 
Israel;  "  thy  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

"Sweetheart,"  he  said  again,  "what  is  darkness?" 

"  Oh,  darkness  is  cold,"  said  Naomi  promptly, 
and  she  seemed  to  shiver. 

"Then  the  light  must  be  warmth,  little  one?" 
said  Israel. 

'Yes,  and  noise,"  she  answered;  and  then  she 
added  quickly,  "  Light  is  alive." 

Saying  this,  she  crept  closer  to  his  side,  and  knelt 
there,  and  by  her  old  trick  of  love  she  took  his  hand 
in  both  of  hers,  and  pressed  it  against  her  cheek,  and 
then,  lifting  her  sweet  face  with  its  motionless  eyes, 
she  began  to  tell  him  in  her  broken  words  and  pretty 
lisp  what  she  thought  of  night.  In  the  night  the 
wrorld,  and  everything  in  it,  was  cold  and  quiet. 
That  was  death.  The  angels  of  God  came  to  the 
world  in  the  day.  But  God  Himself  came  in  the 
night,  because  He  loved  silence,  and  because  all 
the  world  was  dead.     Then  He  kissed  things,  and  in 


198  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

the  morning  all  that  God  had  kissed  came  to  life 
again.  If  you  were  to  get  up  early  you  would  feel 
God's  kiss  on  the  flowers  and  on  the  grass.  And  that 
Avas  why  the  birds  were  singing  then.  God  had 
kissed  them  in  the  night,  and  they  were  glad. 

One  day  Israel  took  Naomi  to  the  mearrah  of 
the  Jews,  the  little  cemetery  outside  the  town  walls 
where  he  had  buried  Ruth.  And  there  he  told  her  of 
her  mother  once  more;  that  she  was  in  the  grave,  but 
also  with  God;  that  she  was  dead,  but  still  alive;  that 
Naomi  must  not  expect  to  find  her  in  that  place,  but, 
nevertheless,  that  she  would  see  her  yet  again. 

"  Do  you  remember  her,  Naomi?  "  he  said.  "  Do 
you  remember  her  in  the  old  days,  the  old  dark  and 
silent  days?  Not  Fatimah,  and  not  Habeebah,  but 
some  one  who  was  nearer  to  you  than  either,  and 
loved  you  better  than  both;  some  one  who  had  soft 
hands,  and  smooth  cheeks,  and  long,  silken,  wavy 
hair — do  you  remember,  little  one?" 

"Ye-s,  I  think — I  think  I  remember,"  said  Naomi. 

"  That  was  your  mother,  my  darling." 

"  My  mother?  " 

"  Ah,  you  don't  know  what  a  mother  is,  sweet- 
heart. How  should  you?  And  how  shall  I  tell  you? 
Listen.  She  is  the  one  who  loves  you  first  and  last 
and  always.  When  you  are  a  babe  she  suckles  you 
and  nourishes  you  and  fondles  you,  and  watches  for 
the  first  light  of  your  smile,  and  listens  for  the  first 
accent  of  your  tongue.  When  you  are  a  young  child 
she  plays  with  you,  and  sings  to  you,  and  tells  you 
little  >tories,  and  teaches  you  to  speak.  Your  smile 
is  more  bright  to  her  than  sunshine,  and  your  child- 
ish lisp  more  sweet  than  music.  If  you  are  sick  she 
is  beside  you  constantly,  and  when  you  are  well  she 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  199 

is  beside  you  still.  Though  you  sin  and  fall  and  all 
men  spurn  you,  yet  she  clings  to  you;  and  if  you  do 
well  and  God  prospers  you,  there  is  no  joy  like  her 
joy.  Her  love  never  changes,  for  it  is  a  fount  which 
the  cold  winds  of  the  world  cannot  freeze.  .  .  .  And 
if  you  are  a  little  helpless  girl — blind  and  deaf  and 
dumb  maybe — then  she  loves  you  best  of  all.  She 
cannot  tell  you  stories,  and  she  cannot  sing  to  you, 
because  you  cannot  hear;  she  cannot  smile  into  your 
eyes,  because  you  cannot  see;  she  cannot  talk  to  you, 
because  you  cannot  speak;  but  she  can  watch  your 
quiet  face,  and  feel  the  touch  of  your  little  fingers, 
and  hear  the  sound  of  your  merry  laughter." 

"  My  mother!  my  mother!  "  whispered  Naomi  to 
herself,  as  if  in  awe. 

"  Yes,"  said  Israel,  "  your  mother  was  like  that, 
Naomi,  long  ago,  in  the  days  before  your  great  gifts 
came  to  you.  But  she  is  gone,  she  has  left  us,  she 
could  not  stay;  she  is  dead,  and  only  from  the  blue 
mountains  of  memory  can  she  smile  back  upon  us 
now." 

Naomi  could  not  understand,  but  her  fixed  blue 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  said  abruptly,  "  Peo- 
ple who  die  are  deceitful.  They  want  to  go  out  in 
the  night  to  be  with  God.  That  is  wdiere  they  are 
when  they  go  away.  They  are  wandering  about  the 
world  when  it  is  dead." 

The  same  night  Naomi  was  missed  out  of  the 
house,  and  for  many  hours  no  search  availed  to  find 
her.  She  wras  not  in  the  Mellah,  and  therefore  she 
must  have  passed  into  the  Moorish  town  before  the 
gates  closed  at  sunset.  Neither  was  she  to  be  seen 
in  the  Feddan  or  at  the  Kasbah,  or  among  the  Arabs 
who  sat  in  the  red  glow  of  the  fires  that  burnt  be- 


200  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

fore  their  tents.  At  last  Israel  bethought  him  of 
the  mearrah,  and  there  he  found  her.  It  was  dark, 
and  the  lonesome  place  was  silent.  The  reflection 
of  the  lights  of  the  town  rose  into  the  sky  above  it, 
and  the  distant  hum  of  voices  came  over  the  black 
town  walls.  And  there,  within  the  straggling  hedge 
of  prickly  pear,  among  the  long  white  stones  that 
lay  like  sheep  asleep  among  the  grass,  Naomi  in  her 
double  darkness,  the  darkness  of  the  night  and  of 
her  blindness,  was  running  to  and  fro,  and  crying, 
"  Mother!     Mother!  " 

Fatimah  took  her  the  four  miles  to  Marteel,  that 
the  breath  of  the  sea  might  bring  colour  to  her 
cheeks,  which  had  been  whitened  by  the  heat,  and 
fumes  of  the  town.  The  day  was  soft  and  beautiful, 
the  water  was  quiet,  and  only  a  gentle  wind  came 
creeping  over  it.  But  Naomi  listened  to  every  sound 
with  eager  intentness — the  light  plash  of  the  blue 
wavelets  that  washed  to  her  feet,  the  ripple  of  their 
crests  when  the  Levanter  chased  them  and  caught 
them,  the  dip  of  the  oars  of  the  boatmen,  the  rattle 
of  the  anchor-chains  of  ships  in  the  bay,  and  the 
fierce  vociferations  of  the  negroes  who  waded  up  to 
their  waists  to  unload  the  cargoes. 

And  when  she  came  home,  and  took  her  old  place 
at  her  father's  knees,  with  his  hand  between  hers 
pressed  close  against  her  cheek,  she  told  him  another 
sweet  and  startling  story.  There  was  only  one  thing 
in  the  world  that  did  not  die  at  night,  and  it  was 
water.  That  was  because  water  was  the  way  from 
heaven  to  earth.  It  went  up  into  the  mountains  and 
over  them  into  the  air  until  it  was  lost  in  the  clouds. 
And  God  and  II is  angels  came  and  went  on  the  water 
between  heaven  and  earth.    That  was  why  it  was  al- 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  201 

ways  moving  and  never  sleeping,  and  had  no  night 
and  no  day.  And  the  angels  were  always  singing. 
That  was  why  the  waters  were  always  making  a  noise, 
and  were  never  silent  like  the  grass.  Sometimes  their 
song  was  joyful,  and  sometimes  it  was  sad,  and  some- 
times the  evil  spirits  were  struggling  with  the  angels, 
and  that  was  when  the  waters  were  terrible.  Every 
time  the  sea  made  a  little  noise  on  the  shore,  an 
angel  had  stepped  on  to  the  earth.  The  angel  was 
glad. 

Israel  had  begun  to  listen  to  Naomi's  fancies  with 
a  doubting  heart.  Where  had  they  come  from? 
Was  it  his  duty  to  wipe  out  these  beautiful  dream- 
stories  of  the  maid  born  blind  and  newly  come  upon 
the  joy  of  hearing  with  his  own  sadder  tales  of 
what  the  world  was  and  what  life  was,  and  death 
and  heaven?  The  question  was  soon  decided  for 
him. 

Two  days  after  Naomi  had  been  taken  to  Mar- 
teel  she  was  missed  again.  Israel  hurried  away  to 
the  sea,  and  there  he  came  upon  her.  Alone,  with- 
out help,  she  had  found  a  boat  on  the  beach  and  had 
pushed  off  on  to  the  water.  It  was  a  double-prowed 
boat,  light  as  a  nutshell,  made  of  ribs  of  rush,  cov- 
ered with  camel-skin,  and  lined  with  bark.  In  this 
frail  craft  she  was  afloat,  and  already  far  out  in  the 
bay,  not  rowing,  but  sitting  quietly,  and  drifting 
away  with  the  ebbing  tide.  The  wind  was  rising, 
and  the  line  of  the  foreshore  beyond  the  boat  was 
white  with  breakers.  Israel  put  off  after  her  and 
rescued  her.  The  motionless  eyes  began  to  fill  when 
she  heard  his  voice. 

"  My  darling,  my  darling!  "  cried  Israel;  "  where 
did  you  think  you  were  going?  " 


202  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  To  heaven,"  she  answered. 

And  truly  she  had  all  hut  gone  there. 
Israel  had  no  choice  left  to  him  now.  He  must 
sadden  the  heart  of  this  creature  of  joy  that  he  might 
keep  her  hody  safe  from  peril.  Naomi  was  no  more 
than  a  little  child,  swayed  by  her  impulses  alone,  but 
in  more  danger  from  herself  than  any  child  before 
her,  because  deprived  of  two  of  her  senses  until  she 
had  grown  to  be  a  maid,  and  no  control  could  be 
imposed  upon  her. 

At  length  Israel  nerved  himself  to  his  bitter 
task;  and  one  evening  while  Naomi  sat  with  him  on 
the  roof  while  the  sun  was  setting,  and  there  were 
noises  in  the  streets  below  of  the  Jewish  people 
shuffling  back  into  the  Mellah,  he  told  her  that  she 
was  blind.  The  word  made  no  impression  upon  her 
mind  at  first.  She  had  heard  it  before,  and  it  had 
passed  her  by  like  a  sound  that  she  did  not  know. 
She  had  been  born  blind,  and  therefore  could  not 
reailse  what  it  was  to  see.  To  open  a  way  for  the 
awful  truth  was  difficult,  and  Israel's  heart  smote 
him  while  he  persisted.  Naomi  laughed  as  he  put 
his  fingers  over  her  eyes  that  he  might  show  her. 
Sin-  laughed  again  when  he  asked  if  she  could  see  the 
people  whom  she  could  only  hear.  And  once  more 
she  laughed  when  the  sun  had  gone  down,  and  the 
mooddin  had  come  out  on  the  Grand  Mosque  in  the 
Metamar,  and  he  asked  if  she  could  see  the  old  blind 
man  in  the  minaret,  where  he  was  crying,  "  God  is 
great!     God  is  great!  " 

"  Can  yon  see  him,  little  one?  "  said  Israel. 

'"See  him?"  said  Naomi;  "why  yes,  you  dear 
old  father,  of  course  I  can  see  him.  Listen,"  she 
cried,  ceasing  her  laughter,  lifting  one  finger,  and 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  203 

holding  her  head  aslant,  "  listen:  God  is  great!  God 
is  great!     There — I  saw  him  then." 

"  That  is  only  hearing  him,  Naomi — hearing  him 
with  your  ears — with  this  ear  and  with  this.  But 
can  you  see  him,  sweetheart?  " 

Did  her  father  mean  to  ask  her  if  she  could  feci 
the  mooddin  in  his  minaret  far  above  them?  Once 
more  she  laid  her  head  aslant.  There  was  a  pause, 
and  then  she  cried  impulsively — 

"  Oh,  i"  know.  But,  you  foolish  old  father,  how 
can  I?     He  is  too  far  away." 

Then  she  flung  her  arms  about  Israel's  neck  and 
kissed  him. 

'  There,"  she  cried,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  settles 
differences,  "  I  have  seen  my  father  anyway." 

It  was  hard  to  check  her  merriment,  but  Israel 
had  to  do  it.  He  told  her,  with  many  throbs  in 
his  throat,  that  she  was  not  like  other  maidens — not 
like  her  father,  or  Ali,  or  Fatimah,  or  Habeebah; 
that  she  was  a  being  afflicted  of  God;  that  there  was 
something  she  had  not  got,  something  she  could  not 
do,  a  world  she  did  not  know,  and  had  never  yet  so 
much  as  dreamt  of.  Darkness  was  more  than  cold 
and  quiet,  and  light  was  more  than  warmth  and 
noise.  The  one  was  day — day  ruled  by  the  fiery  sun 
in  the  sky — and  the  other  was  night,  lit  by  the  pale 
moon  and  the  bright  stars  in  heaven.  And  the  face 
of  man  and  the  eyes  of  woman  were  more  than  fea- 
tures to  feel — they  were  spirit  and  soul,  to  watch  and 
to  follow  and  to  love  without  any  hand  being  near 
them. 

'  There  is  a  great  world  about  you,  little  one," 
he  said,  "  which  you  have  never  seen,  though  you 
can  hear  it  and  feel  it  and  speak  to  it.     Yes,  it  is 


204  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

true,  Naomi,  it  is  true.  You  have  never  seen  the 
mountains,  and  the  dangerous  gullies  on  their  rocky 
sides.  You  have  never  seen  the  mighty  deep,  and 
the  storms  that  heave  and  swell  in  it.  You  have 
never  seen  man  or  woman  or  child.  Is  that  very 
strange,  little  one?  Listen:  your  mother  died  nine 
years  ago,  and  you  had  never  seen  her.  Your  father 
is  holding  your  head  in  his  hands  at  this  moment, 
but  you  have  never  seen  his  face.  And  if  the  dark 
curtains  were  to  fall  from  your  eyes,  and  you  were 
to  see  him  now,  you  would  not  know  him  from  an- 
other man,  or  from  a  woman,  or  from  a  tree.  You 
are  blind,  Naomi,  you  are  blind." 

Naomi  listened  intently.  Her  cheeks  twitched, 
her  ringers  rested  nervously  on  her  dress  at  her 
bosom,  and  her  eyes  grew  large  and  solemn,  and 
then  filled  with  tears.  Israel's  throat  swelled.  To 
tell  her  of  all  this,  though  he  must  needs  do  it  for  her 
safety,  was  like  reproaching  her  with  her  infirmity. 
But  it  was  only  the  trouble  in  her  father's  voice 
that  had  found  its  way  to  the  sealed  chamber  of 
Naomi's  mind.  The  awful  and  crushing  truth  of 
her  blindness  came  later  to  her  consciousness, 
probed  in  and  thrust  home  by  a  frailer  and  lighter 
hand. 

She  had  always  loved  little  children,  and  since 
the  coming  of  her  hearing  she  had  loved  them  more 
than  ever.  Their  lisping  tongues,  their  pretty  broken 
speech,  their  simple  words,  their  childish  thoughts, 
all  fitted  with  her  own  needs,  for  she  was  nothing 
but  a  child  herself,  though  grown  to  be  a  lovely  maid. 
And  of  all  children  those  she  loved  best  were  not  the 
children  of  the  Jews,  nor  yet  the  children  of  the 
Moorish  townsfolk,  but  the  ragged,  barefoot,  black 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  205 

and  olive-skinned  mites  who  came  into  Tetuan  with 
the  country  Arabs  and  Berbers  on  market  mornings. 
They  were  simplest,  their  little  tongues  were  live- 
liest, and  they  were  most  full  of  joy  and  wonder.  So 
she  would  gather  them  up  in  twos  and  threes  and 
fours,  on  Wednesdays  and  Sundays,  from  the  mouths 
of  their  tents  on  the  Feddan,  and  carry  them  home 
by  the  hand. 

And  there,  in  the  patio,  Ali  had  hung  a  swing 
of  hempen  rope,  suspended  from  a  bar  thrown  from 
parapet  to  parapet,  and  on  this  Naomi  would  sport 
with  her  little  ones.  She  would  be  swinging  in  the 
midst  of  them,  with  one  tiny  black  maiden  on  the 
seat  beside  her,  and  one  little  black  man  with  high 
stomach  and  shaven  poll  holding  on  to  the  rope  be- 
hind her,  and  another  mighty  Moor  in  a  diminutive 
white  jellab  pushing  at  their  feet  in  front,  and  all 
laughing  together,  or  the  children  singing  as  the 
swing  rose,  and  she  herself  listening  with  head  aslant 
and  all  her  fair  hair  rip-rip-rippling  down  her  back 
and  over  her  neck,  and  her  smiling  white  face  resting 
on  her  shoulder. 

It  was  a  beautiful  scene  of  sunny  happiness,  but 
out  of  it  came  the  first  great  shadow  of  the  blind 
girl's  life.  For  it  chanced  one  day  that  one  of 
the  children — a  tiny  creature  with  a  slice  of  the 
woman  in  her — brought  a  present  for  Naomi  out 
of  her  mother's  market-basket.  It  was  a  flower, 
but  of  a  strange  kind,  that  grew  only  in  the  distant 
mountains  where  lay  the  little  black  one's  home. 
Naomi  passed  her  fingers  over  it,  and  she  did  not 
know  it. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  It's  blue,"  said  the  child. 


206  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"What  is  blue?"  said  Naomi. 

"  Blue — don't  you  know? — blue!  "  said  the  child. 

'•  But  what  is  blue?  "  Naomi  asked  again,  holding 
the  flower  in  her  restless  fingers. 

"Why,  dear  me!  can't  you  see? — blue — the 
flower,  you  know,"  said  the  child,  in  her  artless  way. 

Ali  was  standing  by  at  the  time,  and  he  thought 
to  come  to  Naomi's  relief.  "  Blue  is  a  colour,"  he 
said. 

"  A  colour?  "  said  Naomi. 

"  Yes,  like — like  the  sea,"  he  added. 

"  The  sea?     Blue?     How?  "  Naomi  asked. 

Ali  tried  again.     "  Like  the  sky,"  he  said  sim- 

P1)'- 

Naomi's  face  looked  perplexed.     "  And  what  is 

the  sky  like  ?  "  she  asked. 

At  that  moment  her  beautiful  face  was  turned 
towards  Ali's  face,  and  her  great  motionless  blue  orbs 
seemed  to  gaze  into  his  eyes.  The  lad  was  pressed 
hard,  and  he  could  not  keep  back  the  answer  that 
leapt  to  his  tongue.     "  Like,"  he  said — "  like " 

"Well?" 

"  Like  your  own  eyes,  Naomi." 

By  the  old  habit  of  her  nervous  fingers,  she  cov- 
ered her  ev<s  with  her  hands,  as  if  the  sense  of  touch 
would  teach  her  what  her  other  senses  could  not  tell. 
But  the  solemn  mystery  had  dawned  on  her  mind  at 
last:  that  she  was  unlike  others;  that  she  was  lack- 
ing something  that  every  one  else  possessed;  that  the 
little  children  who  played  with  her  knew  what  she 
could  never  know;  that  she  was  infirm,  afflicted,  cut 
oil';  that  there  was  a  strange  and  lovely  and  light- 
Bome  world  lying  round  about  her,  where  every  one 
else  might  sport  and  find  delight,  but  that  her  spirit 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  207 

could  not  enter  it,  because  she  was  shut  off  from 
it  by  the  great  hand  of  God. 

From  that  time  forward  everything  seemed  to 
remind  her  of  her  affliction,  and  she  heard  its  baneful 
voice  at  all  times.  Even  her  dreams,  though  they 
had  no  visions,  were  full  of  voices  that  told  of  them. 
If  a  bird  sang  in  the  air  above  her,  she  lifted  her 
sightless  eyes.  If  she  walked  in  the  town  on  market 
morning  and  heard  the  din  of  traffic — the  cries  of 
the  dealers,  the  "  Balak!  "  of  the  camel-men,  the 
"  Arrah!  "  of  the  muleteers,  and  the  twanging  ginbri 
of  the  story-tellers — she  sighed  and  dropped  her  head 
into  her  breast.  Listening  to  the  wind,  she  asked  if 
it  had  eyes  or  was  sightless;  and  hearing  of  the 
mountains  that  their  snowy  heads  rose  into  the 
clouds,  she  inquired  if  they  were  blind,  and  if  they 
ever  talked  together  in  the  sky. 

But  at  the  awful  revelation  of  her  blindness  she 
ceased  to  be  a  child,  and  became  a  woman.  In  the 
week  thereafter  she  had  learned  more  of  the  world 
than  in  all  the  years  of  her  life  before.  She  was 
no  longer  a  restless  gleam  of  sunlight,  a  reckless  spirit 
of  joy,  but  a  weak,  patient,  blind  maiden,  conscious 
of  her  great  infirmity,  humbled  by  it,  and  thinking 
shame  of  it. 

One  afternoon,  deserting  the  swing  in  the  patio, 
she  went  out  with  the  children  into  the  fields.  The 
day  was  hot,  and  they  wandered  far  down  the  banks 
and  dry  bed  of  the  Marteel.  And  as  they  ran  and 
raced,  the  little  black  people  plucked  the  wild  flowers, 
and  called  to  the  cattle  and  the  sheep  and  the  dogs, 
and  whistled  to  the  linnets  that  whistled  to  their 
young. 

Thus  the  hours  went  on  unheeded.     The  after- 


208  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

noon  passed  into  evening,  the  evening  into  twilight, 
the  twilight  into  early  night.  Then  the  air  grew 
empty  like  a  vault,  and  a  solemn  quiet  fell  upon  the 
children,  and  they  crept  to  Naomi's  side  in  fear,  and 
took  her  hands  and  clung  to  her  gown.  She  turned 
back  towards  the  town,  and  as  they  walked  in  the 
double  silence  of  their  own  hushed  tongues  and  the 
songless  and  voiceless  world,  the  fingers  of  the  little 
ones  closed  tightly  upon  her  own. 

Then  the  children  cried  in  terror,  "  See!  " 

"What  is  it?"  said  Naomi. 

The  little  ones  could  not  tell  her.  It  was  only 
the  noiseless  summer  lightning,  but  the  children  had 
never  seen  it  before.  With  broad  white  flashes  it  lit 
up  the  land  as  far  as  from  the  bed  of  the  river  in 
the  valley  to  the  white  peaks  of  the  mountains.  At 
every  flash  the  little  people  shrieked  in  their  fear,  and 
there  was  no  one  there  to  comfort  them  save  Naomi 
only,  and  she  was  blind  and  could  not  see  what  they 
saw.  With  helpless  hands  she  held  to  their  hands 
and  hurried  home,  over  the  darkening  fields,  through 
the  palpitating  sheets  of  dazzling  light,  leading  on, 
yet  seeing  nothing. 

But  Israel  saw  Naomi's  shame.  The  blindness 
which  was  a  sense  of  humiliation  to  her  became  a 
sense  of  burning  wrong  to  him.  He  had  asked  God 
to  give  her  speech,  and  had  promised  to  be  satisfied. 
"Give  her  speech,  0  Lord,"  he  had  cried,  "speech 
that  shall  lift  her  above  the  creatures  of  the  field, 
speech  whereby  alone  she  may  ask  and  know."  But 
what  was  speech  without  sight  to  her  who  had  always 
been  blind?  What  was  all  the  world  to  one  who 
had  never  seen  it?  Only  as  Paradise  is  to  Man,  who 
can  but  idly  dream  of  its  glories. 


NAOMI'S  BLINDNESS.  209 

Israel  took  back  his  prayer.  There  were  things  to 
know  that  words  could  never  tell.  Now  was  Naomi 
blind  for  the  first  time,  being  no  longer  dumb.  "  Give 
her  sight,  0  Lord,"  he  cried;  "  open  her  eyes  that 
she  may  see;  let  her  look  on  Thy  beautiful  world 
and  know  it!  Then  shall  her  life  be  safe,  and  her 
heart  be  happy,  and  her  soul  be  Thine,  and  Thy 
servant  at  last  be  satisfied!  " 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Israel's  great  resolve. 

It  was  six-and-twenty  days  since  the  night  of  the 
meeting  on  the  Sok,  and  no  rain  had  fallen  yet.  The 
eggs  of  the  locust  might  be  hatched  at  any  time. 
Then  the  wingless  creatures  would  rise  on  the  face 
of  the  earth  like  snow,  and  the  poor  lean  stalks  of 
wheat  and  barley  that  were  coming  green  out  of  the 
ground  would  wither  before  them.  The  country  peo- 
ple were  in  despair.  They  were  all  but  stripped  of 
their  cattle;  they  had  no  milk;  and  they  came  afoot 
to  the  market.  Death  seemed  to  look  them  in  the 
face.  Neither  in  the  mosques  nor  in  the  syna- 
gogues did  they  offer  petitions  to  God  for  rain.  They 
had  long  since  ceased  their  prayers.  Only  in  the 
Feddan  at  the  mouths  of  their  tents  did  they  lift  up 
their  heavy  eyes  to  the  hot  haze  of  the  pitiless  sky 
and  mutter,  "  It  is  written!  " 

Israel  was  busy  with  other  matters.  During 
these  six-and-twenty  days  he  had  been  asking  him- 
self what  it  was  right  and  needful  that  he  should  do. 
He  had  concluded  at  length  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
give  up  the  office  he  held  under  the  Kaid.  No  longer 
could  he  serve  two  masters.  Too  long  had  he  held 
to  the  one,  thinking  that  by  recompense  and  restitu- 
tion, by  fair  dealing  and  even-handed  justice,  he 
might  atone  to  the  other.  Recompense  was  a  mock- 
210 


ISRAEL'S  GREAT   RESOLVE.  211 

ery  of  the  sufferings  which  had  led  to  death;  resti- 
tution was  no  longer  possible — his  own  purse  being 
empty — without  robbery  of  the  treasury  of  his  mas- 
ter; fair  dealing  and  even  justice  were  a  vain  hope 
in  Barbary,  where  every  man  who  held  office,  from 
the  heartless  Sultan  in  his  hareem  to  the  pert  Mut*- 
hasseb  in  the  market,  must  be  only  as  a  human  tor- 
ture-jellab,  made  and  designed  to  squeeze  the  life- 
blood  out  of  the  man  beneath  him. 

To  endure  any  longer  the  taunts  and  laughter 
of  Ben  Aboo  was  impossible,  and  to  resist  the  covetous 
importunities  of  his  Spanish  woman,  Katrina,  was  a 
waste  of  shame  and  spirit.  Besides,  and  above  all, 
Israel  remembered  that  God  had  given  him  grace 
in  the  sacrifices  which  he  had  made  already.  Twice 
had  God  rewarded  him,  in  the  mercy  He  had  shown 
to  Naomi,  for  putting  by  the  pomp  and  circumstance 
of  the  world.  Would  His  great  hand  be  idle  now — 
now  when  he  most  needed  its  mighty  and  miraculous 
power — when  Naomi,  being  conscious  of  her  blind- 
ness, was  mourning  and  crying  for  sweet  sight  of  the 
world,  and  he  himself  was  about  to  put  under  his 
feet  the  last  of  his  possessions  that  separated  him 
from  other  men — his  office  that  he  wrought  for  in  the 
early  days  with  sweat  of  brow  and  blood,  and  held 
on  to  in  the  later  days  through  evil  report  and  hatred, 
that  he  might  conquer  the  fate  that  had  first  beaten 
him  down! 

Israel  was  in  the  way  of  bribing  God  again,  for- 
getting, in  the  heat  of  his  desire,  the  shame  of  his 
journey  to  Shawan.  He  made  his  preparations,  and 
they  were  few.  His  money  was  gone  already,  and 
so  were  his  dead  wife's  jewels.     He  had  determined 

that  he  would  keep  his  house,  if  only  as  a  shelter  to 
15 


212  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Naomi  (for  he  owed  something  to  her  material  com- 
fort as  well  as  her  spiritual  welfare),  but  that  its 
furniture  and  belongings  were  more  luxurious  than 
their  necessity  would  require  or  altered  state  allow. 

So  he  sold  to  a  Jewish  merchant  in  the  Mellah  the 
couches  and  great  chairs  which  he  had  bought  out  of 
England,  as  well  as  the  carpets  from  Rabat,  the 
silken  hangings  from  Fez,  and  the  purple  canopies 
from  Morocco  city.  When  these  were  gone,  and 
nothing  remained  but  the  simple  rugs  and  mattresses 
which  are  all  that  the  house  of  a  poor  man  needs  in 
that  land  where  the  skies  are  kind,  he  called  his 
servants  to  him  as  he  sat  in  the  patio — Ali  as  well 
as  the  two  bondwomen — for  he  had  decided  that  he 
must  part  with  them  also,  and  they  must  go  their 
ways. 

"  My  good  people,"  he  said,  "  you  have  been  true 
and  faithful  servants  to  me  this  many  a  year — you, 
Fatimah,  and  you  also,  Habeebah,  since  before  the 
days  when  my  wife  came  to  me — and  you  too,  Ali, 
my  lad,  since  you  grew  to  be  big  and  helpful.  Little 
I  thought  to  part  with  you  until  my  good  time  should 
come;  but  my  life  in  our  poor  Barbary  is  over  al- 
ready, and  to-morrow  I  shall  be  less  than  the  least 
of  all  men  in  Tetuan.  So  this  is  what  I  have  con- 
cluded to  do.  You,  Fatimah,  and  you,  Habeebah, 
being  given  to  me  as  bondwromen  by  the  Kaid  in  the 
old  days  when  my  power,  which  now  is  little  and  of 
no  moment,  was  great  and  necessary — you  belong 
to  me.  Well,  I  give  you  your  liberty.  Your  papers 
are  in  the  name  of  Ben  Aboo,  and  I  have  sealed 
them  with  his  seal — that  is  the  last  use  but  one  that 
I  shall  put  it  to.  Here  they  are,  both  of  them. 
Take  them  to  the  Kadi  after  prayers  in  the  morning, 


ISRAEL'S  GREAT  RESOLVE.  213 

and  he  will  ratify  your  title.     Then  you  will  be  free 
women  for  ever  after." 

The  black  women  had  more  than  once  broken  in 
upon  Israel's  words  with  exclamations  of  surprise  and 
consternation.  "Allah!"  "Bismillah!"  "Holy 
saints!"  "By  the  beard  of  the  Prophet!"  And 
when  at  length  he  put  the  deeds  of  emancipation 
into  their  hands  they  fell  into  loud  fits  of  hysterical 
weeping. 

"  As  for  you,  Ali,  my  son,"  Israel  continued,  "  I 
cannot  give  you  your  freedom,  for  you  are  a  freeman 
born.  You  have  been  a  son  to  me  these  fourteen 
years.  I  have  another  task  for  you — a  perilous  task, 
a  solemn  duty — and  when  it  is  done  I  shall  see  you 
no  more.  My  brave  boy,  you  will  go  far,  but  I  do 
not  fear  for  you.  When  you  are  gone  I  shall  think 
of  you;  and  if  you  should  sometimes  think  of  your 
old  master  who  could  not  keep  you,  we  may  not  al- 
ways be  apart." 

The  lad  had  listened  to  these  words  in  blank 
bewilderment.  That  strange  disasters  had  of  late 
befallen  their  household  wras  an  idea  that  had 
forced  itself  upon  his  unwilling  mind.  But  that 
Israel,  the  greatest,  noblest,  mightiest  man  in  the 
world — let  the  dogs  of  rasping  Jews  and  the  scurvy 
hounds  of  Moors  yelp  and  bark  as  they  would — 
should  fall  to  be  less  than  the  least  in  Tetuan,  and, 
having  fallen,  that  he  should  send  him  away — him, 
Ali,  his  boy  whom  he  had  brought  up,  Naomi's  old 
playfellow — Allah!  Allah!  in  the  name  of  the  merci- 
ful God,  what  did  his  master  mean? 

Ali's  big  eyes  began  to  fill,  and  great  beads  rolled 
down  his  black  cheeks.  Then,  recovering  his  speech, 
he  blurted  out  that  he  would  not  go.     He  would  fol- 


214  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

low  his  father  and  serve  him  until  the  end  of  his 
life.  What  did  he  want  with  wages?  Who  asked 
for  any?  No  going  his  ways  for  him!  A  pretty 
thing,  wasn't  it,  that  he  should  go  off,  and  never 
see  his  father  again,  no,  nor  Naomi — Naomi — that — 
that — hut  God  would  show!     God  would  show! 

And,  following  All's  lead,  Fatimah  stepped  up  to 
Israel  and  offered  her  paper  back.  "  Take  it,"  she 
said;  "I  don't  want  any  liberty.  I've  got  liberty 
enough  as  I  am.  And  here — here,"  fumbling  in  her 
waistband  and  bringing  out  a  knitted  purse;  "  I 
would  have  offered  it  before,  only  I  thought  shame. 
My  wages?  Yes.  You've  paid  us  wages  these  nine 
years,  haven't  you;  and  what  right  had  we  to  any, 
being  slaves?  You  will  not  take  it,  my  lord?  Well, 
then,  my  dear  master,  if  I  must  go,  if  I  must  leave 
you,  take  my  papers  and  sell  me  to  some  one.  I 
shall  not  care,  and  you  have  a  right  to  do  it.  Per- 
haps I'll  get  another  good  master — who  knows?" 

Her  brows  had  been  knitted,  and  she  had  tried 
to  look  stern  and  angry,  but  suddenly  her  cheeks 
were  a  flood  of  tears. 

"  I'm  a  fool!  "  she  cried.  "  I'll  never  get  a  good 
master  again;  but  if  I  get  a  bad  one,  and  he  beats 
me,  I'll  not  mind,  for  I'll  think  of  you,  and  my  pre- 
cious jewel  of  gold  and  silver,  my  pretty  gazelle, 
Naomi — Allah  preserve  her! — that  you  took  my 
money,  and  I'm  bearing  it  for  both  of  you,  as  we 
might  say — working  for  you — night  and  day — night 
and  day " 

Israel  could  endure  no  more.  He  rose  up  and 
fled  out  of  the  patio  into  his  own  room,  to  bury  his 
swimming  face.  But  his  soul  was  big  and  trium- 
phant.    Let  the  world  call  him  by  what  names  it 


ISRAEL'S  GREAT  RESOLVE.  215 

would — tyrant,  traitor,  outcast,  pariah — there  were 
simple  hearts  that  loved  and  honoured  him — ay, 
honoured  him — and  they  were  the  hearts  that  knew 
him  hest. 

The  perilous  task  reserved  for  Ah  was  to  go  to 
Shawan  and  to  liberate  the  followers  of  Absalam, 
who,  less  happy  than  their  leader,  whose  strong  soul 
was  at  rest,  were  still  in  prison  without  abatement 
of  the  miseries  they  lay  under.  He  was  to  do  this 
by  power  of  a  warrant  addressed  to  the  Kaid  of  Sha- 
wan and  drawn  under  the  seal  of  the  Kaid  of  Tetuan. 
Israel  had  drawn  it,  and  sealed  it  also,  without  the 
knowledge  or  sanction  of  Ben  Aboo:  for,  knowing 
what  manner  of  man  Ben  Aboo  was,  and  knowing 
Katrina  also,  and  the  sway  she  held  over  him,  and 
thinking  it  useless  to  attempt  to  move  either  to 
mercy,  he  had  determined  to  make  this  last  use  of 
his  office,  at  all  risks  and  hazards. 

Ben  Aboo  might  never  hear  that  the  people  were 
at  large,  for  Ali  was  to  forbid  them  to  return  to 
Tetuan,  and  Shawan  was  sixty  weary  miles  away. 
And  if  he  ever  did  hear,  Israel  himself  would  be 
there  to  bear  the  brunt  of  his  displeasure,  but  Ali, 
the  instrument  of  his  design,  must  be  far  away.  For 
when  the  gates  of  the  prison  had  been  opened,  and 
the  prisoners  had  gone  free,  Ali  was  neither  to  come 
back  to  Tetuan  nor  to  remain  in  Morocco;  but  with 
the  money  Israel  gave  him  out  of  the  last  wreck  of 
his  fortune  he  was  to  make  haste  to  Gibraltar  by  way 
of  Ceuta,  and  not  to  consider  his  life  safe  until  he  had 
set  foot  in  England. 

"  England!  "  cried  Ali.  "  But  they  are  all  white 
men  there." 

"  White-hearted  men,  my  lad,"  said  Israel;  "  and 


216  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

a  Jewish  man  may  find  rest  for  the  sole  of  his  foot 
among  them." 

That  same  day  the  hlack  hoy  bade  farewell  to 
Israel  and  to  Naomi.  He  was  leaving  them  for  ever, 
and  he  was  broken-hearted.  Israel  was  his  father, 
Naomi  was  his  sister,  and  never  again  should  he  set 
his  eyes  on  either.  But  in  the  pride  of  his  perilous 
mission  he  bore  himself  bravely. 

"  Well,  good-night,"  he  said,  taking  Naomi's 
hand,  but  not  looking  into  her  blind  face. 

"  Good-night,"  she  answered,  and  then,  after  a 
moment,  she  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed 
him.     He  laughed  lightly,  and  turned  to  Israel. 

"  Good-night,  father,"  he  said  in  a  shrill  voice. 

"  A  safe  journey  to  you,  my  son,"  said  Israel; 
"  and  may  you  do  all  my  errands." 

"  God  burn  my  great-grandfather  if  I  do  not!  " 
said  AH  stoutly. 

But  with  that  word  of  his  country  his  brave 
bearing  at  length  broke  down,  and  drawing  Israel 
aside,  that  Naomi  might  not  hear,  he  whispered,  sob- 
bing and  stammering,  "When — when  I  am  gone, 
don't,  don't — tell  her  that  I  was  black." 

Then  in  an  instant  lie  fled  away. 

"  In  peace!  "  cried  Israel  after  him.  "  In  peace! 
my  brave  hoy.  simple,  noble,  loyal  heart!  " 

Next  morning  Israel,  leaving  Naomi  at  home,  set 
oil'  for  the  Kasbah,  that  he  might  carry  out  his  great 
resolve  to  give  up  the  oflice  he  held  under  the  Kaid. 
And  as  he  passed  through  the  streets  his  head  was 
held  up,  and  he  walked  proudly.  A  great  burden 
had  fallen  from  him,  and  his  spirit  was  light.  The 
people  bent  their  heads  before  him  as  he  passed,  and 
scowled  at  him  when  he  was  gone  by.     The  beggars 


ISRAEL'S  GREAT  RESOLVE.  217 

lying  at  the  gate  of  the  Mosque  spat  over  their  fin- 
gers behind  his  back,  and  muttered  "  Bismillah!  In 
the  name  of  God! ,:  A  negro  farmer  in  the  Feddan, 
who  was  bent  double  over  a  hoof  as  he  was  shoeing 
a  bony  and  scabby  mule,  lifted  his  ugly  face,  bathed 
in  sweat,  and  grinned  at  Israel  as  he  went  along. 
A  group  of  Eeefians,  dirty  and  lean  and  hollow-eyed, 
feeding  their  gaunt  donkeys,  and  glancing  anxiously 
at  the  sky  over  the  heads  of  the  mountains,  snarled 
like  dogs  as  he  strode  through  their  midst.  The  sky 
was  overcast,  and  the  heads  of  the  mountains  were 
capped  with  mist.  "Balak!"  sounded  in  Israel's 
ears  from  every  side.  "  Arrah !  "  came  constantly  at 
his  heels.  A  sweet-seller  with  his  wooden  tray  swung 
in  front  of  him,  crying,  "  Sweets,  all  sweets,  0  my 
lord  Edrees,  sweets,  all  sweets,"  changed  the  name 
of  the  patron  saint  of  candies,  and  cried,  "  Sweets, 
all  sweets,  0  my  lord  Israel,  sweets,  all  sweets! '; 
The  girl  selling  clay  peered  up  impudently  into 
Israel's  eyes,  and  the  oven-boy,  answering  the 
loud  knocking  of  the  bodiless  female  arms  thrust 
out  at  doors  standing  ajar,  made  his  wordless 
call  articulate  with  a  mocking  echo  of  Israel's 
name. 

What  matter?  Israel  could  not  be  wroth  with 
the  poor  people.  Six-and-twenty  years  he  had  gone 
in  and  out  among  them  as  a  slave.  This  morning 
he  was  a  free  man,  and  to-morrow  he  would  be  one 
of  themselves. 

When  he  reached  the  Kasbah,  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  air  about  it  that  brought  back  recollec- 
tions of  the  day — now  nearly  four  years  past — of  the 
children's  gathering  at  Katrina's  festival.  The  lusty- 
lunged  Arabs  squatting  at  the  gates  among  soldiers 


218  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

in  white  selhams  and  peaked  shasheeahs,  the  women 
in  blankets  standing  in  the  outer  court,  the  dark  pas- 
sages smelling  of  damp,  the  gusts  of  heavy  odour 
coming  from  the  inner  chambers,  and  the  great  patio 
with  the  fountain  and  fig-trees — the  same  voluptu- 
ous air  was  over  everything.  And  as  on  that  day  so 
on  this,  in  the  alcove  under  the  horseshoe  arch  sat 
Ben  Aboo  and  his  Spanish  wife. 

Time  had  dealt  with  them  after  their  kind,  and 
the  swarthy  face  of  the  Kaid  was  grosser,  the  short 
curls  under  his  turban  were  more  grey,  and  his  hazel 
eyes  were  now  streaked  and  bleared,  but  otherwise 
he  was  the  same  man  as  before;  and  Katrina  also, 
save  for  the  loss  of  some  teeth  of  the  upper  row, 
was  the  same  woman.  And  if  the  children  had  risen 
up  before  Israel's  eyes  as  he  stood  on  the  threshold 
of  the  patio,  he  could  not  have  drawn  his  breath  with 
more  surprise  than  at  the  sight  of  the  man  who 
stood  that  morning  in  their  place. 

It  was  Mohammed  of  Mequinez.  He  had  come 
to  ask  for  the  release  of  the  followers  of  Absalam 
from  their  prison  at  Shawan.  In  defiance  of  cour- 
tesy, his  slippers  were  on  his  feet.  He  was  clad  in  a 
piece  of  untanned  camel-skin,  which  reached  to  his 
knees  and  was  belted  about  his  waist.  His  head, 
which  was  bare  to  the  sun  and  drooped  by  nature  like 
a  flower,  was  held  proudly  up,  and  his  wild  eyes 
were  flashing.  JI<;  was  not  supplicating  for  the  de- 
liverance of  the  people,  but  demanding  it,  and  taxing 
Ben  Aboo  as  a  tyrant  to  his  throat. 

"  Give  me  them  up,  Ben  Aboo,"  he  was  saying  as 
Israel  came  to  the  threshold,  "  or,  if  they  die  in  their 
prison,  one  thing  I  promise  you." 

"And  pray  what  is  that?"  said  Ben  Aboo. 


ISRAEL'S  GREAT  RESOLVE.  219 

"  That  there  will  be  a  bloody  inquiry  after  their 
murderer." 

Ben  Aboo's  brows  were  knitted,  but  he  only 
glanced  at  Katrina,  and  made  pretence  to  laugh,  and 
then  said,  "  And  pray,  my  lord,  who  shall  the  mur- 
derer be?  " 

Then  Mohammed  of  Mequinez  stretched  out  his 
hand  and  answered,  "  Yourself." 

At  that  word  there  was  silence  for  a  moment, 
while  Ben  Aboo  shifted  in  his  seat,  and  Katrina  quiv- 
ered beside  him. 

Ben  Aboo  glanced  up  at  Mohammed.  He  was 
Kaid,  he  was  Basha,  he  was  master  of  all  men  within 
a  circuit  of  thirty  miles,  but  he  was  afraid  of  this 
man  whom  the  people  called  a  prophet.  And  partly 
out  of  this  fear,  and  partly  because  he  had  more 
regard  to  Mohammed's  courageous  behaviour  in  thus 
bearding  him  in  his  Kasbah  and  by  the  walls  of  his 
dungeons  than  to  the  anger  his  hot  word  had  caused 
him,  Ben  Aboo  would  have  promised  him  at  that  mo- 
ment that  the  prisoners  at  Shawan  should  be  re- 
leased. 

But  suddenly  Katrina  remembered  that  she  also 
had  cause  of  indignation  against  this  man,  for  it  had 
been  rumoured  of  late  that  Mohammed  had  openly 
denounced  her  marriage. 

"  Wait,  Sidi,"  she  said.  "  Is  not  this  the  fellow 
that  has  gone  up  and  down  your  bashalic,  crying  out 
on  our  marriage  that  it  was  against  the  law  of  Mo- 
hammed? " 

At  that  Ben  Aboo  saw  clearly  that  there  was  no 
escape  for  him,  so  he  made  pretence  to  laugh  again, 
and  said,  "  Allah!  so  it  is!  Mohammed  the  Third, 
eh?     Son  of  Mequinez,  God  will  repay  you!    Thanks! 


220  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Thanks!  You  could  never  think  how  long  I've 
waited  that  I  might  look  face  to  face  upon  the 
prophet  that  has  denounced  a  Kaid." 

He  uttered  these  big  words  between  bursts  of 
derisive  laughter,  but  Mohammed  struck  the  laugh- 
ter from  his  lips  in  an  instant.  "  Wait  no  longer,  0 
Ben  Aboo,"  he  cried,  "  but  look  upon  him  now,  and 
know  that  what  you  have  done  is  an  unclean  thing, 
and  you  shall  be  childless  and  die!  " 

Then  Ben  Aboo's  passion  mastered  him.  He  rose 
to  his  feet  in  his  anger,  and  cried,  "  Prophet,  you 
have  destroyed  yourself.  Listen  to  me!  The  tur- 
bulent dogs  you  plead  for  shall  lie  in  their  prison 
until  they  perish  of  hunger  and  rot  of  their  sores. 
By  the  beard  of  my  father,  I  swear  it!  " 

Mohammed  did  not  flinch.  Throwing  back  his 
head,  he  answered,  "  If  I  am  a  prophet,  0  Ben  Aboo, 
hear  me  prophesy.  Before  that  which  you  say  shall 
come  to  pass,  both  you  and  your  father's  house  will 
be  destroyed.  Never  yet  did  a  tyrant  go  happily  out 
of  the  world,  and  you  shall  go  out  of  it  like  a  dog." 

Then  Katrina  also  rose  to  her  feet,  and,  calling 
to  a  group  of  barefooted  Arab  soldiers  that  stood 
near,  she  cried,  "  Take  him!     He  will  escape!  " 

But  the  soldiers  did  not  move,  and  Ben  Aboo  fell 
back  on  his  seat,  and  Mohammed,  fearing  nothing, 
spoke  again. 

"  In  a  vision  of  last  night  I  saw  you,  0  Ben  Aboo, 
and  for  the  contempt  you  had  cast  upon  our  holy 
laws,  and  for  the  destruction  you  had  wroughl  on  our 
poor  people,  the  sword  of  vengeance  had  fallen  upon 
you.  And  within  this  very  court,  and  on  that  very 
spot  where  your  feet  now  rest,  your  whole  body  did 
lie;  and  that  woman  beside  you  lay  over  you  wailing, 


ISRAEL'S  GREAT  RESOLVE.  221 

and  your  blood  was  on  her  face  and  on  her  hands; 
and  only  she  was  with  you,  for  all  else  had  forsaken 
you — all  save  one,  and  that  was  your  enemy,  and 
he  had  come  to  see  you  with  his  eyes,  and  to  rejoice 
over  you  with  his  heart,  because  you  were  fallen  and 
dead." 

Then,  in  the  creeping  of  his  terror,  Ben  Aboo 
rose  up  again  and  reeled  backward,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  steadfastly  downward  at  his  feet  where  the 
eyes  of  Mohammed  had  rested.  It  was  almost  as  if 
he  saw  the  awful  thing  of  which  Mohammed  had 
spoken,  so  strong  was  the  power  of  the  vision  upon 
him. 

But  recovering  himself  quickly,  he  cried,  "  Away! 
In  the  name  of  God,  away!  " 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Mohammed;  "  and  beware  what 
you  do  while  I  am  gone." 

"  Do  you  threaten  me  ?  "  cried  Ben  Aboo.  "  Will 
you  go  to  the  Sultan?  Will  you  appeal  to  Abd  er- 
Eahman?  " 

"  No,  Ben  Aboo;  but  to  God." 

So  saying,  Mohammed  of  Mequinez  strode  out  of 
the  place,  for  no  man  hindered  him.  Then  Ben 
Aboo  sank  back  on  to  his  seat  as  one  that  was  speech- 
less, and  nothing  had  the  crimson  on  his  body  availed 
him,  or  the  silver  on  his  breast,  against  that  simple 
man  in  camel-skin,  who  owned  nothing  and  asked 
nothing,  and  feared  neither  Kaid  nor  King. 

When  Ben  Aboo  had  regained  himself,  he  saw 
Israel  standing  at  the  doorway,  and  he  beckoned  to 
him  with  the  downward  motion,  which  is  the  Moorish 
manner.  And  rising  on  his  quaking  limbs  he  took 
him  aside  and  said,  "  I  know  this  fellow.  Ya  Allah! 
Allah!     For  all  h'is  vaunts  and  visions  he  has  gone  to 


222  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Abd  er-Eahman.  God  will  show!  God  will  show! 
I  dare  not  take  him!  Abd  er-Eahman  uses  him  to 
spy  and  pry  on  his  Bashas!  Camel-skin  coat?  Allah! 
a  line  disguise!     Bismillah!     Bismillah! ': 

Then,  looking  back  at  the  place  where  Moham- 
med in  the  vision  saw  his  body  lie  outstretched,  he 
dropped  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  said,  "  Listen! 
You  have  my  seal  ?  " 

Israel,  without  a  word,  put  his  hand  into  the 
pocket  of  his  waistband  and  drew  out  the  seal  of 
Ben  Aboo. 

"  Eight !  Now  hear  me,  in  the  name  of  the  mer- 
ciful God.  Do  not  liberate  these  infidel  dogs  at 
Shawan,  and  do  not  give  them  so  much  as  bread  to 
eat  or  water  to  drink,  but  let  such  as  own  them  feed 
them.  And  if  ever  the  thing  of  which  that  fellow 
has  spoken  should  come  to  pass — do  you  hear? — in 
the  hour  wherein  it  befalls — Allah  preserve  me! — in 
that  hour  draw  a  warrant  on  the  Kaid  of  Shawan 
and  seal  it  with  my  seal — are  you  listening? — a  war- 
rant to  put  every  man,  woman,  and  child  to  the 
sword.  Ya  Allah!  Allah!  We  will  deal  with  these 
spies  of  Abd  er-Eahman!  So  shall  there  be  mourn- 
ing at  my  burial — Holy  Saints!  Holy  Saints! — 
mourning,  I  say,  among  them  that  look  for  joy  at 
my  death." 

Thus  in  a  quaking  voice,  sometimes  whispering, 
and  again  breaking  into  loud  exclamations,  Ben  Aboo 
in  his  terror  poured  his  broken  words  into  Israel's 
ear. 

Israel  made  no  answer.  His  eyes  had  become 
dim — he  scarcely  saw  the  walls  of  the  place  wherein 
they  stood.  His  ears  had  become  dense — he  scarcely 
heard  the  voice  of  Ben  Aboo,  though  the  Kaid's  hot 


ISRAEL'S  GREAT  RESOLVE.  223 

breath  was  beating  upon  his  cheek.  But  through 
the  haze  he  saw  the  shadow  of  one  figure  tramping 
furiously  to  and  fro,  and  through  the  thick  air  the 
voice  of  another  figure  came  muffled  and  harsh.  For 
Katrina,  having  chased  away  with  smiles  the  evil 
looks  of  Ben  Aboo,  had  turned  to  Israel  and  was 
saying — 

'  What  is  this  I  hear  of  your  beautiful  daughter 
— this  Naomi  of  yours — that  she  has  recovered  her 
speech  and  hearing!  When  did  that  happen,  pray? 
No  answer?  Ah,  I  see,  you  are  tired  of  the  decep- 
tion. You  kept  it  up  well  between  you.  But  is  she 
still  blind?  So?  Dear  me!  Blind,  poor  child. 
Think  of  it!  " 

Israel  neither  answered  nor  looked  up,  but  stood 
motionless  on  the  same  place,  holding  the  seal  in 
his  hand.  And  Ben  Aboo,  in  his  restless  tramping 
up  and  down,  came  to  him  again,  and  said,  "  Why 
are  you  a  Jew,  Israel  ben  Oliel?  The  dogs  of  your 
people  hate  you.  Witness  to  the  Prophet!  Resign 
yourself!  Turn  Muslim,  man — what's  to  hinder 
you?" 

Still  Israel  made  no  reply.  But  Ben  Aboo  con- 
tinued: "Listen!  The  people  about  me  are  in  the 
pay  of  the  Sultan,  and  after  all  you  are  the  best 
servant  I  have  ever  had.  Say  the  Kelmah,  and  I'll 
make  you  my  Khaleefa.  Do  you  hear? — my  Kha- 
leefa,  with  power  equal  to  my  own.  Man,  why  don't 
you  speak?  Are  you  grown  stupid  of  late  as  well 
as  weak  and  womanish  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER. 

"  Basha/'  said  Israel — he  spoke  slowly  and  quiet- 
ly, but  with  forced  calmness — "  Basha,  you  must  seek 
another  hand  for  work  like  that — this  hand  of  mine 
shall  never  seal  that  warrant." 

"Tut,  man!"  whispered  Ben  Ahoo.  "Do  your 
new  measles  break  out  everywhere?  Am  I  not  Kaid? 
Can  I  not  make  you  my  Khaleefa?  " 

Israel's  face  was  worn  and  pale,  but  his  eye  burned 
with  the  fire  of  his  great  resolve. 

"  Basha,"  he  said  again  calmly  and  quietly,  "  if 
you  were  Sultan  and  could  make  me  your  Vizier,  I 
would  not  do  it." 

"Why?"  cried  Ben  Aboo;  "why?  why?" 

"  Because/'  said  Israel,  "  I  am  here  to  deliver  up 
your  seal  to  you." 

"  You?    Grace  of  God!  "  cried  Ben  Aboo. 

"  I  am  here,"  continued  Israel,  as  calmly  as  be- 
fore, "  to  resign  my  office." 

"Resign  your  office?  Deliver  up  your  seal?" 
cried  Ben  Aboo.    "  Man.  man,  are  you  mad?  " 

"No,  Basha,  not  to-day,"  said  Israel  quietly.  "I 
must  have  been  that  when  I  came  here  first,  five-and- 
twenty  years  ago." 

Ben  Aboo  gnawed  his  lip  and  scowled  darkly,  and 
in  the  flush  of  his  anger,  his  consternation  being  over, 
224 


THE  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER.  225 

he  would  have  fallen  upon  Israel  with  torrents  of 
abuse,  but  that  he  was  smitten  suddenly  by  a  new  and 
terrible  thought.  Quivering  and  trembling,  and  mut- 
tering short  prayers  under  his  breath,  he  recoiled  from 
the  place  where  Israel  stood,  and  said,  "  There  is  some- 
thing under  all  this?  What  is  it?  Let  me  think! 
Let  me  think!  " 

Meantime  the  face  of  Katrina  beneath  its  covering 
of  paint  had  grown  white,  and  in  scarcely  smothered 
tones  of  wrath,  by  the  swift  instinct  of  a  suspicious 
nature,  she  was  asking  herself  the  same  question, 
"  What  does  it  mean?    What  does  it  mean?  " 

In  another  moment  Ben  Aboo  had  read  the  riddle 
his  own  way.  "Wait!"  he  cried,  looking  vainly  for 
help  and  answer  into  the  faces  of  his  people  about 
him.  "  Who  said  that  when  he  was  away  from  Tetuan 
he  went  to  Fez?  The  Sultan  was  there  then.  He 
had  just  come  up  from  Soos.  That's  it!  I  knew  it! 
The  man  is  like  all  the  rest  of  them.  Abd  er-Eahman 
has  bought  him.  Allah!  Allah!  What  have  I  done 
that  every  soul  that  eats  my  bread  should  spy  and 
pry  on  me?  " 

Satisfied  with  this  explanation  of  Israel's  conduct, 
Ben  Aboo  waited  for  no  further  assurance,  but  fell  to 
a  wild  outburst  of  mingled  prayers  and  protests.  "  0 
Giver  of  Good  to  all!  0  Creator!  It  is  Abd  er-Rah- 
man  again.  Ya  Allah!  Ya  Allah!  Or  else  his  rapa- 
cious satellites — his  thieves,  his  robbers,  his  cut- 
throats! That  bloated  Vizier!  That  leprous  Na'ib 
es-Sultan!  Oh,  I  know  them.  Bismillah!  They 
want  to  fleece  me.  They  want  to  squeeze  me  of  my 
little  wealth — my  just  savings — my  hard  earnings 
after  my  long  service.  Curse  them!  Curse  their  rela- 
tions!    0  Merciful!     0  Compassionate!     They'll  call 


226  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

it  arrears  of  taxes.  But  no,  by  the  beard  of  my  father, 
no!  Not  one  fels  shall  they  have  if  I  die  for  it.  I'm 
an  old  soldier — they  shall  torture  me.  Yes,  the  bas- 
tinado, the  jellab— but  I'll  stand  firm!  Allah!  Allah! 
Bismillah!  Why  does  Abd  er-Rahman  hate  me?  It's 
because  I'm  his  brother — that's  it,  that's  it!  But  I've 
never  risen  against  him.  Never,  never!  I've  paid  him 
all!  All!  I  tell  you  I've  paid  everything.  I've  got 
nothing  left.  You  know  it  yourself,  Israel,  you  know 
it." 

Thus,  in  the  crawling  of  his  fear  he  cried  with 
maudlin  tears,  pleaded  and  entreated  and  threatened, 
fumbling  meantime  the  beads  of  his  rosary  and  tramp- 
ing nervously  to  and  fro  about  the  patio  until  he  drew 
up  at  length,  with  a  supplicating  look,  face  to  face 
with  Israel.  And  if  anything  had  been  needed  to  fix 
Israel  to  his  purpose  of  withdrawing  for  ever  from 
the  service  of  Ben  Aboo,  he  must  have  found  it  in 
this  pitiful  spectacle  of  the  Kaid's  abject  terror,  his 
quick  suspicion,  his  base  disloyalty,  and  rancorous 
hatred  of  his  own  master,  the  Sultan. 

But,  struggling  to  suppress  his  contempt,  Israel 
said,  speaking  as  slowly  and  calmly  as  at  first,  "  Basha, 
have  no  fear;  I  have  not  sold  myself  to  Abd  er-Rah- 
man. It  is  true  that  I  was  at  Fez — but  not  to  see  the 
Sultan.  I  have  never  seen  him.  I  am  not  his  spy. 
He  knows  nothing  of  me.  I  know  nothing  of  him, 
and  what  I  am  doing  now  is  being  done  for  myself 
alone." 

Hearing  this,  and  believing  it,  for,  liars  and  pre- 
varicators as  were  the  other  men  about  him,  Israel 
had  never  yet  deceived  him,  Ben  Aboo  made  what 
poor  shift  he  could  to  cover  his  shame  at  the  sorry 
weakness  he  had  just  betrayed.    And  first  he  gazed  in 


THE  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER.  227 

a  sort  of  stupor  into  Israel's  steadfast  face;  and  then 
he  dropped  his  evil  eyes,  and  laughed  in  scorn  of  his 
own  words,  as  if  trying  to  carry  thern  off  by  a  silly 
show  of  braggadocio,  and  to  make  believe  that  they 
had  been  no  more  than  a  humorous  pretence,  and  that 
no  man  would  be  so  simple  as  to  think  he  had  truly 
meant  them.  But,  after  this  mockery,  he  turned  to 
Israel  again,  and,  being  relieved  of  his  fears,  he  fell 
back  to  his  savage  mood  once  more,  without  disguise 
and  without  shame. 

"  And  pray,  sir,"  said  he,  with  a  ghastly  smile, 
"  what  riches  have  you  gathered  that  you  are  at  last 
content  to  hoard  no  more?  " 

"  None/'  said  Israel  shortly. 

Ben  Aboo  laughed  lustily,  and  exchanged  looks  of 
obvious  meaning  with  Katrina. 

"  And  pray,  again,"  he  said,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip; 
''  without  office  and  without  riches  how  may  you  hope 
to  live?" 

"  As  a  poor  man  among  poor  men,"  said  Israel, 
"  serving  God  and  trusting  to  His  mercy." 

Again  Ben  Aboo  laughed  hoarsely,  and  Katrina 
joined  him,  but  Israel  stood  quiet  and  silent,  and  gave 
no  sign. 

"  Serving  God  is  hard  bread,"  said  Ben  Aboo. 

"  Serving  the  devil  is  crust! "  said  Israel. 

At  that  answer,  though  neither  by  look  nor  ges- 
ture had  Israel  pointed  it,  the  face  of  Ben  Aboo  be- 
came suddenly  discoloured  and  stern. 

"  Allah!  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  cried.  "  Who 
are  you  that  you  dare  wag  your  insolent  tongue  at 
me?" 

"  I  am  your  scapegoat,  Basha,"  said  Israel,  with 
an  awful  calm — "  your  scapegoat,  who  bears  your  in- 
16 


228  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

iquities  before  the  eyes  of  your  people.  Your  scape- 
goat, who  sins  against  them  and  oppresses  them,  and 
brings  them  by  bitter  tortures  to  the  dust  and  death. 
That's  what  I  am,  Basha,  and  have  long  been,  shame 
upon  me!  And  while  I  am  down  yonder  in  the  streets 
among  your  people — hated,  reviled,  despised,  spat 
upon,  cut  off — you  are  up  here  in  the  Kasbah  above 
them,  in  honour  and  comfort  and  wealth,  and  the  mis- 
taken love  of  all  men." 

While  Israel  said  this,  Ben  Aboo  in  his  fury  came 
down  upon  him  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  patio 
with  a  look  of  a  beast  of  prey.  His  swarthy  cheeks 
were  drawn  hard,  his  little  bleared  eyes  flashed,  his 
heavy  nose  and  thick  lips  and  massive  jaw  quivered 
visibly,  and  from  under  his  turban  two  locks  of  iron- 
grey  fell  like  a  shaggy  mane  over  his  ears. 

But  Israel  did  not  flinch.  With  a  look  of  quiet 
majesty,  standing  face  to  face  with  the  tyrant,  not  a 
foot's  length  between  them,  he  spoke  again  and  said, 
"  Basha,  I  do  not  envy  you,  but  neither  will  I  share 
your  business  nor  your  rewards.  I  mean  to  be  your 
scapegoat  no  more.  Here  is  your  seal.  It  is  red  with 
the  blood  of  your  unhappy  people  through  these  five- 
and-twentv  bad  years  past.  I  can  carry  it  no  longer. 
Take  it." 

In  a  tempest  of  wrath  Ben  Aboo  struck  the  seal 
out  of  Israel's  band  as  he  offered  it,  and  the  silver 
rolled  and  rang  on  the  tiled   pavement  of  the  patio. 

"  Fool!  "  he  cried.  "  So  this  is  what  it  is!  Allah! 
In  the  name  of  the  most  merciful  God,  who  would 
have  believed  it?  Israel  ben  Oliel  a  prophet!  A 
prophet  of  the  poor!  0  Merciful!  0  Compassion- 
ate! " 

Thus,  in  his  frenzy,  pretending  to  imitate  with 


THE  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER.  229 

airs  of  manifest  mockery  his  outbreak  of  fear  a  few 
minutes  before,  Ben  Aboo  raved  and  raged  and  lifted 
his  clenched  fist  to  the  sky  in  sham  imprecation  of 
God. 

"Who  said  it  was  the  Sultan?"  he  cried  again. 
"He  was  a  fool.  Abd  er-Rahman?  No;  but  Moham- 
med of  Mequinez!  Mohammed  the  Third!  That's 
it!     That's  it!  " 

So  saying,  and  forgetting  in  his  fury  what  he  had 
said  before  of  Mohammed  himself,  he  laughed  wildly, 
and  beat  about  the  patio  from  side  to  side  like  a  caged 
and  angry  beast. 

"  And  if  I  am  a  tyrant,"  he  said  in  a  thick  voice, 
"  who  made  me  so  ?  If  I  oppress  the  poor,  who  taught 
me  the  way  to  do  it  ?  Whose  clever  brain  devised  new 
means  of  revenue?  Eansoms,  promissory  notes,  bonds, 
false  judgments — what  did  I  know  of  such  things? 
Who  changed  the  silver  dollars  at  nine  ducats  apiece? 
And  who  bought  up  the  debts  of  the  people  that  mur- 
mured against  such  robbery?  Allah!  Allah!  Whose 
crafty  head  did  all  this?  Why,  yours — yours — Israel 
ben  Oliel !    By  the  beard  of  the  Prophet,  I  swear  it !  " 

Israel  stood  unmoved,  and  when  these  reproaches 
were  hurled  at  him,  he  answered  calmly  and  sadly, 
"  God's  ways  are  not  our  ways,  neither  are  His 
thoughts  our  thoughts.  He  works  His  own  will,  and 
we  are  but  His  ministers.  I  thought  God's  justice 
had  failed,  but  it  has  overtaken  myself.  For  what  I 
did  long  ago  of  my  own  free  will  and  intention  to  op- 
press the  poor,  I  have  suffered  and  still  am  suffering." 

All  this  time  the  Spanish  wife  of  Ben  Aboo  had 
sat  in  the  alcove  with  lips  whitening  under  their 
crimson  patches  of  paint,  beating  her  fan  restlessly 
on  the  empty  air,  and  breathing  rapid  and  audible 


230  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

breath.  And  now,  at  this  last  word  of  Israel,  though 
so  sadly  spoken,  and  so  solemn  in  its  note  of  suffer- 
ing, she  broke  into  a  trill  of  laughter,  and  said  lightly, 
"Ah!  I  thought  your  love  of  the  poor  was  young. 
Not  yet  cut  its  teeth,  poor  thing!  A  babe  in  swad- 
dling clothes,  eh?    When  was  it  born?  " 

"  About  the  time  that  you  were,  madam,"  said 
Israel,  lifting  his  heavy  eyes  upon  her. 

At  that  her  lighter  mood  gave  place  to  quick 
anger.  "  Husband,"  she  cried,  turning  upon  Ben 
Aboo  with  the  bitterness  of  reproach,  "  I  hope  you 
now  see  that  I  was  right  about  this  insolent  old  man. 
I  told  you  from  the  first  what  would  come  of  him. 
But  no,  you  would  have  your  own  foolish  way.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  the  devil's  dues  were  in  him. 
Yet  you  would  not  believe  me!  You  would  believe 
him!  Simpleton  as  you  are,  you  are  believing  him 
now!  The  poor?  Fiddle-faddle  and  fiddlesticks!  1 
tell  you  again  this  man  is  trying  to  put  his  foot  on 
your  neck.  How?  Oh,  trust  him,  he's  got  his  own 
schemes!  Look  to  it,  El  Arby,  look  to  it!  He'll  be 
master  in  Tetuan  yet!  " 

Saying  this,  she  had  wrought  herself  up  to  a  pitch 
of  wrath,  sometimes  laughing  wildly,  and  then  speak- 
ing in  a  voice  that  was  like  an  angry  cry.  And  now, 
rising  to  her  feet  and  facing  towards  the  Arab  sol- 
diers, who  stood  aside  in  silence  and  wonder,  she  cried, 
"  Arabs,  Berbers,  Moors,  Christians,  fight  as  you  will, 
follow  the  Basha  as  you  may,  you'll  lie  in  the  same 
bed  yet!    But  where?    Under  the  heels  of  the  Jew! " 

A  hoarse  murmur  ran  from  lip  to  lip  among  the 
men,  and  the  ghostly  smile  came  back  into  the  face 
of  Ben  Aboo. 

"  You  must  be  right,"  he  said,  "  you  must  be 


THE  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER.  231 

right!  Ya  Allah!  Ya  Allah!  This  is  the  dog  that  I 
picked  out  of  the  mire.  I  found  him  a  beggar,  and  I 
gave  him  wealth.  An  impostor,  a  personator,  a  cheat, 
and  I  gave  him  place  and  rank.  When  he  had  no 
home,  I  housed  him,  and  when  he  could  find  no  one 
to  serve  him,  I  gave  him  slaves.  I  have  banished  his 
enemies,  and  imprisoned  those  he  hated.  After  his 
wife  had  died,  and  none  came  near  him,  and  he  was 
left  to  howk  out  her  grave  with  his  own  hands,  I  gave 
him  prisoners  to  bury  her,  and  when  he  was  done  with 
them  I  set  them  free.  All  these  years  I  have  heaped 
fortune  upon  him.  Ya  Allah!  His  master!  No,  but 
his  servant,  doing  his  will  at  the  lifting  of  his  finger. 
And  all  for  what?  For  this!  For  this!  For  this! 
Ingrate! "  he  cried  in  his  thick  voice,  turning  hotly 
upon  Israel  again,  "  if  you  must  give  up  your  seal, 
why  should  you  do  it  like  a  fool?  Could  you  not 
come  to  me  and  say,  '  Kaid,  I  am  old  and  weary;  I 
am  rich,  and  have  enough;  I  have  served  you  long  and 
faithfully;  let  me  rest ' — why  not?    I  say,  why  not ?  " 

Israel  answered  calmly,  "  Because  it  would  have 
been  a  lie,  Basha." 

"  So  it  would,"  cried  Ben  Aboo  sharply,  "  so  it 
would:  you  are  right — it  would  have  been  a  lie,  an 
accursed  lie!  But  why  must  you  come  to  me  and  say, 
'  Basha,  you  are  a  tyrant,  and  have  made  me  a  tyrant 
also;  you  have  sucked  the  blood  of  your  people,  and 
made  me  to  drink  it ' " 

"  Because  it  is  true,  Basha,"  said  Israel. 

At  that  Ben  Aboo  stopped  suddenly,  and  his 
swarthy  face  grew  hideous  and  awful.  Then,  pointing 
with  one  shaking  hand  at  the  farther  end  of  the  patio, 
he  said,  "  There  is  another  thing  that  is  true.  It  is 
true  that  on  the  other  side  of  that  wall  there  is  a 


232  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

prison,"  and,  lifting  his  voice  to  a  shriek,  he  added, 
"  you  are  on  the  edge  of  a  gulf,  Israel  ben  Oliel.  One 
step  more " 

But  just  at  that  moment  Israel  turned  full  upon 
him,  face  to  face,  and  the  threat  that  he  was  about  to 
utter  seemed  to  die  in  his  stifling  throat.  If  only  he 
could  have  provoked  Israel  to  anger  he  might  have 
had  his  will  of  him.  But  that  slow,  impassive  man- 
ner, and  that  worn  countenance  so  noble  in  sadness 
and  suffering,  was  like  a  rebuke  of  his  passion,  and  a 
retort  upon  his  words. 

And  truly  it  seemed  to  Israel  that  against  the 
B&sha's  story  of  his  ingratitude  he  could  tell  a  dif- 
ferent tale.  This  pitiful  slave  of  rage  and  fear,  this 
thing  of  rags  and  patches,  this  whining,  maudlin, 
shrieking,  bleating,  barking  creature  that  hurled  re- 
proaches at  him,  was  the  master  in  whose  service  he 
had  spent  his  best  brain  and  best  blood.  But  for  the 
strong  hand  that  he  had  lent  him,  but  for  the  cool 
head  wherewith  he  had  guarded  him,  where  would  the 
man  be  now?  In  the  dungeons  of  Abd  er-Kahman, 
having  gone  thither  by  way  of  the  Sultan's  wooden 
jellabs  and  his  houses  of  fierce  torture.  By  the  mind's 
eve  Israel  could  see  him  there  at  that  instant — sight- 
less,  hungry,  gaunt.  But  no,  he  was  still  here — fat, 
sleek,  voluptuous,  imperious.  And  good  men  lay  per- 
ishing in  his  prisons,  and  children,  starved  to  death, 
lay  in  their  graves,  and  he  himself,  his  servant  and 
scapegoat,  whose  brains  he  had  drained,  whose  blood 
In-  had  sweated,  stood  before  him  there  like  an  old 
lion,  who  had  been  wandering  far  and  was  beaten 
back  by  his  cubs. 

But  what  matter?  He  could  silence  the  Basha 
with  a  word;  yet  why  should  he  speak  it?     Twenty 


THE  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER.  233 

times  he  had  saved  this  man,  who  could  neither  read 
nor  write  nor  reckon  figures,  from  the  threatened  pen- 
alties of  the  Shereefean  Court,  and  he  could  count 
them  all  up  to  him;  yet  why  should  he  do  so? 
Through  five-and-twenty  evil  years  he  had  built  up 
this  man's  house;  yet  why  should  he  boast  of  what  was 
done,  being  done  so  foully?  He  had  said  his  say,  and 
it  was  enough.  This  hour  of  insult  and  outrage  had 
been  written  on  his  forehead,  and  he  must  have  come 
to  it.     Then,  courage!  courage! 

"  Husband,"  cried  the  woman,  showing  her  tooth- 
less jaw  in  a  bitter  smile  to  Ben  Aboo  as  he  crossed 
the  patio,  "  you  must  scour  this  vermin  out  of  Te- 
tuan!" 

"  You  are  right,"  he  answered.  "  By  Allah,  you 
are  right!  And  henceforth  I  will  be  served  by  sol- 
diers, not  by  scribblers." 

Then,  wheeling  about  once  more  to  where  Israel 
stood,  he  said  in  a  voice  of  mockery,  "  Master,  my 
lord,  my  Sultan,  you  came  to  resign  your  office?  But 
you  shall  do  more  than  that.  You  shall  resign  your 
house  as  well,  and  all  that's  in  it,  and  leave  this  town 
as  a  beggar." 

Israel  stood  unmoved.  "As  you  will,"  he  said 
quietly. 

"Where  are  the  two  women — the  slaves?"  asked 
Ben  Aboo. 

"  At  home,"  said  Israel. 

"  They  are  mine,  and  I  take  them  back,"  said  Ben 
Aboo. 

Israel's  face  quivered,  and  he  seemed  to  be  about 
to  protest,  but  he  only  drew  a  longer  breath,  and  said 
again,  "  As  you  will,  Basha." 

Ben  Aboo's  voice  gathered  vehemence  at  every 


234  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

fresh  question.  "Where  is  your  money?"  he  cried; 
"  the  money  that  you  have  made  out  of  my  service — 
out  of  me — my  money — where  is  it?  " 

"  Nowhere,"  said  Israel. 

"  It's  a  lie — another  lie!  "  cried  Ben  Aboo.  "  Oh 
yes,  I've  heard  of  your  charities,  master.  They  were 
meant  to  buy  over  my  people,  were  they.  Were  they? 
Were  they,  I  ask?  "  ' 

"  So  you  say,  Bash  a,"  said  Israel. 

"  So  I  know!  "  cried  Ben  Aboo;  "  but  all  you  had 
is  not  gone  that  way.  You're  a  fool,  but  not  fool 
enough  for  that!  Give  up  your  keys — 'the  keys  of 
your  house!  " 

Israel  hesitated,  and  then  said,  "  Let  me  return 
for  a  minute — it  is  all  I  ask." 

At  that  the  woman  laughed  hysterically.  "Ah! 
he  has  something  left  after  all!  "  she  cried. 

Israel  turned  his  slow  eyes  upon  her,  and  said, 
"  Yes,  madam,  I  have  something  left — after  all." 

Paying  no  heed  to  the  reply,  Katrina  cried  to  Ben 
Aboo  again,  saying,  "  El  Arby,  make  him  give  up  the 
key  of  that  house.    ITe  has  treasure  there!  " 

"  It  is  true,  madam,"  said  Israel;  "it  is  true  that 
T  have  a  treasure  there.  My  daughter — my  little 
blind  Naomi." 

"Is  that  all?"  cried  Katrina  and  Ben  Aboo  to- 
gether. 

"It  is  all,"  said  Israel;  "but  it  is  enough.  Let 
me  fetch  her." 

"Don't  allow  it!  "  cried  Katrina. 

Israel's  face  betrayed  feeling.  He  was  struggling 
to  Buppress  it.  "Make  me  homeless  if  you  will,"  he 
said.  "  turn  me  like  a  beggar  out  of  your  town,  but 
le1  me  fetch  my  daughter." 


tup:  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER.  235 

"  She'll  not  thank  you,"  cried  Katrina. 

"  She  loves  me,"  said  Israel.  "  I  am  growing  old, 
I  am  numbering  the  steps  of  death.  I  need  her  joy- 
ous young  life  beside  me  in  my  declining  age.  Then, 
she  is  helpless,  she  is  blind;  she  is  my  scapegoat, 

Basha,  as  I  am  yours,  and  no  one  save  her  father " 

Ah!    Ah!    Ah!" 


« 


Israel  had  spoken  warmly,  and  at  the  tender  fibres 
of  feeling  that  had  been  forced  out  of  him  at  last  the 
woman  was  laughing  derisively.  "  Trust  me,"  she 
cried,  "  I  know  what  daughters  are.  Girls  like  better 
things.  No,  "  I'll  give  her  what  will  be  more  to  her 
taste.    She  shall  stay  here  with  me." 

Israel  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  and  an- 
swered, "  Madam,  I  would  rather  see  her  dead  at  my 
feet." 

Then  Ben  Aboo  broke  in  and  said,  "  Don't  wag 
your  tongue  at  your  mistress,  sir." 

"  Your  mistress,  Basha,"  said  Israel;  "  not  mine." 

At  that  word  Katrina,  with  all  her  evil  face 
aflame,  came  sweeping  down  upon  Israel,  and  struck 
him  with  her  fan  on  the  forehead.  He  did  not  flinch 
or  speak.  The  blow  had  burst  the  skin,  and  a  drop 
of  blood  trickled  over  the  temple  on  to  the  cheek 
There  was  a  short  deep  pause. 

Then  the  hard  tension  of  silence  was  broken  by  a 
faint  cry.  It  came  from  behind,  from  the  doorway; 
it  was  the  voice  of  a  girl. 

In  the  blank  stupor  of  the  moment,  every  eye  be- 
ing on  the  two  that  stood  in  the  midst,  no  one  had  ob- 
served until  then  that  another  had  entered  the  patio. 
It  was  Naomi.  How  long  she  had  been  there  no  one 
knew,  and  how  she  had  come  unnoticed  through  the 
corridors  out  of  the  streets  scarce  any  one — even  when 


236  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

time  sufficed  to  arrange  the  scattered  thoughts  of  the 
Makhazni,  the  guard  at  the  gate— could  clearly  tell. 
She  stood  under  the  arch,  with  one  hand  at  her  breast, 
which  heaved  visibly  with  emotion,  and  the  other 
hand  stretched  out  to  touch  the  open  iron-clamped 
door,  as  if  for  help  and  guidance.  Her  head  was  held 
up,  her  lips  were  apart,  and  her  motionless  blind  eyes 
seemed  to  stare  wildly.  She  had  heard  the  hot  words. 
She  had  heard  the  sound  of  the  blow  that  followed 
them.  Her  father  was  smitten!  Her  father!  Her 
father!  It  was  then  that  she  uttered  the  cry.  All 
eves  turned  to  her.  Quaking,  reeling,  almost  falling, 
she  came  tottering  down  the  patio.  Soul  and  sense 
seemed  to  be  struggling  together  in  her  blind  face. 
What  did  it  all  mean?  What  was  happening?  Her 
fixed  eyes  stared  as  if  they  must  burst  the  bonds  that 
bound  them,  and  look,  and  see,  and  know! 

At  that  moment  God  wrought  a  mighty  work,  a 
wondrous  change,  such  as  He  has  brought  to  pass  but 
twice  or  thrice  since  men  were  born  blind  into  His 
world  of  light.  In  an  instant,  at  a  thought,  by  one 
spontaneous  flash,  as  if  the  spirit  of  the  girl  tore  down 
the  dark  curtains  which  had  hung  for  seventeen  years 
over  the  windows  of  her  eyes,  Naomi  saw ! 

They  all  knew  it  at  once.  It  seemed  to  them  as  if 
every  feature  of  the  girl's  face  had  leapt  into  her 
eyes;  as  if  the  expression  of  her  lips,  her  brow,  her 
nostrils,  had  sprung  to  them:  as  if  her  face,  so  fair 
before,  so  full  of  quivering  feeling,  must  have  been 
nothing  until  then  but  a  blank.  Nay,  but  they 
seemed  to  see  her  now  for  the  first  time.  This,  only 
this,  was  she! 

And  to  Xaomi  also,  at  that  moment,  it  was  almost 
as  if  she  had  been  newly  born  into  life.     She  was 


THE  LIGHT-BORN  MESSENGER.  237 

meeting  the  world  at  last  face  to  face,  eye  to  eye.  Into 
her  darkened  chamber,  that  had  never  known  the 
light,  everything  had  entered  at  a  blow — the  white 
glare  of  the  sun,  the  blue  sky,  the  tiled  patio,  the 
faces  of  the  Kaid  and  his  wife  and  his  soldiers,  and  of 
the  old  man  also,  with  the  unshed  tears  hanging  on 
the  fringe  of  his  eyelid.  She  could  not  realise  the 
marvel.  She  did  not  know  what  vision  was.  She 
had  not  learned  to  see.  Her  trembling  soul  had  gone 
out  from  its  dark  chamber  and  met  the  mighty  light 
in  his  mansion.  "  Oh!  oh!  "  she  cried,  and  stood  be- 
wildered and  helpless  in  the  midst.  The  picture  of 
the  world  seemed  to  be  falling  upon  her,  and  she 
covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  that  she  might  abol- 
ish it  altogether. 

Israel  saw  everything.  "Naomi!  "  he  cried  in  a 
choking  voice,  and  stretched  out  his  hands  to  her. 
Then  she  uncovered  her  eyes,  and  looked,  and  paused, 
and  hesitated. 

"Naomi!"  he  cried  again,  and  made  a  step  towards 
her.  She  covered  her  eyes  once  more,  that  she  might 
shut  out  the  stranger  they  showed  her,  and  only  lis- 
tened to  the  voice  that  she  knew  so  well.  Then  she 
staggered  into  her  father's  arms.  And  Israel's  heart 
was  big,  and  he  gathered  her  to  his  breast,  and,  turn- 
ing towards  the  woman,  he  said,  "  Madam,  we  are  in 
the  hands  of  God.  Look!  See!  He  has  sent  His 
angel  to  protect  His  servant." 

Meantime,  Ben  Aboo  was  quaking  with  fear.  He, 
too,  saw  the  finger  of  God  in  the  wondrous  thing 
which  had  come  to  pass.  And,  falling  back  on  his 
maudlin  mood,  he  muttered  prayers  beneath  his 
breath,  as  he  had  done  before  when  the  human  majes- 
ty, the  Sultan  Abd  er-Eahman,  was  the  object  of  his 


238  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

terror.  "  0  Giver  of  good  to  all!  What  is  this?  Al- 
lah save  us!  Bismillah!  Is  it  Allah  or  the  Jinoon? 
Merciful!  Compassionate!  Curses  on  them  both! 
Allah!    Allah!" 

The  soldiers  were  affected  by  the  fears  of  the 
Basha,  and  they  huddled  together  in  a  group.  But 
Katrina  fell  to  laughing. 

"  Brava!  "  she  cried.  "  Brava!  Oh!  a  brave  im- 
posture! What  did  I  say  long  ago?  Blind?  No 
more  blind  than  you  were!  But  a  pretty  pretence! 
Well  acted!     Very  well  acted!     Brava!     Brava!" 

Thus  she  laughed  and  mocked,  and  the  Basha, 
hearing  her,  took  shame  of  his  crawling  fears,  and 
made  a  poor  show  of  joining  her. 

Israel  heard  them,  and  for  a  moment,  seeing  how 
they  made  sport  of  Naomi,  a  fire  was  kindled  in  his 
anger  that  seemed  to  come  up  from  the  lowest  hell. 
But  he  fought  back  the  passion  that  was  mastering 
him,  and  at  the  next  instant  the  laughter  had  ceased, 
and  Ben  Aboo  was  saying — 

"  Guards,  take  both  of  them.  Set  the  man  on  an 
ass,  and  let  the  girl  walk  barefoot  before  him;  and 
let  a  crier  cry  beside  them,  '  So  shall  it  be  done  to 
every  man  who  is  an  enemy  of  the  Kaid,  and  to  every 
woman  who  is  a  play-actor  and  a  cheat! '  Thus  let 
them  pass  through  the  streets  and  through  the  people 
until  they  are  come  to  a  gate  of  the  town,  and  then 
cast  them  forth  from  it  like  lepers  and  like  dogs!  " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   RAINBOW   SIGN". 

While  this  bad  work  had  been  going  forward  in 
the  Kasbah  a  great  blesisng  had  fallen  on  the  town. 
The  long-looked  for,  hoped  for,  prayed  for — the  good 
and  blessed  rain — had  come  at  last.  In  gentle  drops 
like  dew  it  had  at  first  been  falling  from  the  rack  of 
dark  cloud  which  had  gathered  over  the  heads  of  the 
mountains,  and  now,  after  half  an  hour  of  such  mois- 
ture, the  sky  over  the  town  was  grey,  and  the  rain 
was  pouring  down  like  a  flood. 

Oh!  the  joy  of  it,  the  sweetness,  the  freshness,  the 
beauty,  the  odour!  The  air  overhead,  which  had  been 
dense  with  dust,  was  clearing  and  whitening  as  if  the 
water  washed  it.  And  the  ground  underfoot,  which 
had  reeked  of  creeping  and  crawling  things,  was  run- 
ning like  a  wholesome  river,  and  bearing  back  to  the 
lips  a  taste  as  of  the  sea. 

And  the  people  of  the  town,  in  their  surprise  and 
gladness  at  the  falling  of  the  rain,  had  come  out  of 
their  houses  to  meet  it.  The  streets  and  the  market- 
place were  full  of  them.  In  childish  joy  they  wan- 
dered up  and  down  in  the  drenching  flood,  without 
fear  or  thought  of  harm,  with  laughing  eyes  and 
gleaming  white  teeth,  holding  out  their  palms  to  the 
rain  and  drinking  it.  Hailing  each  other  in  the 
voices  of  joys,  jesting  and  shouting  and  singing,  to 

239 


240  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  fro  they  went  and  came  without  aim  or  direction. 
The  Jews  trooped  out  of  the  Mellah,  chattering  like 
jays,  and  the  Moors  at  the  gate  salaamed  to  them. 
Mule-drivers  cried  "  Balak  "  in  tones  that  seemed  to 
sing;  gunsmiths  and  saddle-makers  sat  idle  at  their 
doors,  greeting  every  one  that  passed;  solemn  Talebs 
stood  in  knots,  with  faces  that  shone  under  the  closed 
hoods  of  their  dark  jellahs;  and  the  bareheaded  Ber- 
bers encamped  in  the  market-square  capered  about 
like  flighty  children,  grinned  like  apes,  fired  their 
long  guns  into  the  air  for  love  of  hearing  the  powder 
speak,  often  wept,  and  sometimes  embraced  each 
other,  thinking  of  their  homes  that  were  far  away. 

Now,  it  was  just  when  the  town  was  alive  with  this 
strange  scene  that  the  procession  which  had  been  or- 
dered by  Ben  Aboo  came  out  from  the  Kasbah.  At 
the  head  of  it  walked  a  soldier,  staff  in  hand  and  gor- 
geous— notwithstanding  the  rain — in  peaked  sha- 
sheeah  and  crimson  selham.  Behind  him  were  four 
black  police,  and  on  either  side  of  the  company  were 
two  criers  of  the  street,  each  carrying  a  short  staff 
festooned  with  strings  of  copper  coin,  which  he  rattled 
in  the  air  for  a  bell.  Between  these  came  the  victims 
of  the  Basha's  order — Naomi  first,  barefooted,  bare- 
headed, stripped  of  all  but  the  last  garment  that  hid 
her  nakedness,  her  head  held  down,  her  face  hidden, 
and  her  eyes  closed — and  Israel  afterwards,  mounted 
on  a  Lean  and  ragged  ass.  A  further  guard  of  black 
police  walked  at  the  back  of  all.  Thus  they  came 
down  the  steep  arcades  into  the  market-square,  where 
the  greater  body  of  the  townspeople  had  gathered 
together. 

When  the  people  saw  them,  they  made  for  them, 
hastening  in  crowds  from  every  side  of  the  Feddan, 


THE  RAINBOW  SIGN.  241 

from  every  adjacent  alley,  every  shop,  tent,  and 
booth.  And  when  they  saw  who  the  prisoners  were 
they  burst  into  loud  exclamations  of  surprise. 

"  Ya  Allah!    Israel  the  Jew!  "  cried  the  Moors. 

"  God  of  Jacob,  save  us!  Israel  ben  Oliel!  "  cried 
the  people  of  the  Mellah. 

"What  is  it?  What  has  happened?  What  has  be- 
fallen them?"  they  all  asked  together. 

"  Balak!  "  cried  the  soldier  in  front,  swinging  his 
staff  before  him  to  force  a  passage  through  the  throng- 
ing multitude.  "Attention!  By  your  leave!  Away! 
Out  of  the  way!  " 

And  as  they  walked  the  criers  chanted,  "  So  shall 
it  be  done  to  every  man  who  is  an  enemy  of  the  Kaid, 
and  to  every  woman  who  is  a  play-actor  and  a  cheat." 

When  the  people  had  recovered  from  their  con- 
sternation they  began  to  look  black  into  each  other's 
face,  to  mutter  oaths  between  their  teeth,  and  to  say 
in  voices  of  no  pity  or  ruth,  "  He  deserved  it!  "  "  Ya 
Allah,  but  he's  well  served!"  "Holy  Saints,  we 
knew  what  it  would  come  to!  "  "  Look  at  him  now!  " 
"  There  he  is  at  last!  "  "  Brave  end  to  all  his  great 
doings!  "    "  Curse  him!     Curse  him!  " 

And  over  the  muttered  oaths  and  pitiless  curses, 
the  yelping  and  barking  of  the  cruel  voices  of  the 
crowd,  as  the  procession  moved  along,  came  still  the 
cry  of  the  crier,  "  So  shall  it  be  done  to  every  man 
who  is  an  enemy  of  the  Kaid,  and  to  every  woman 
who  is  a  play-actor  and  a  cheat." 

Then  the  mood  of  the  multitude  changed.  The 
people  began  to  titter,  and  after  that  to  laugh  openly. 
They  wagged  their  heads  at  Israel;  they  derided  him; 
they  made  merry  over  his  sorry  plight.  Where  he  was 
now  he  seemed  to  be  not  so  much  a  fallen  tyrant  as  a 


242  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

silly  sham  and  an  imposture.  Look  at  him!  Look  at 
his  bony  and  ragged  ass!  Ya  Allah!  To  think  that 
they  had  ever  been  afraid  of  him! 

As  the  procession  crossed  the  market-place,  a 
woman  who  was  enveloped  in  a  blanket  spat  at  Israel 
as  he  passed.  When  it  was  come  to  the  door  of  the 
Mosque,  an  old  man,  a  beggar,  hobbled  through  the 
crowd  and  struck  Israel  with  the  back  of  his  hand 
across  the  face.  The  woman  had  lost  her  husband  and 
the  man  his  son  by  death  sentences  of  Ben  Aboo. 
Israel  had  succoured  both  when  he  went  about  on  his 
secret  excursions  after  nightfall  in  the  disguise  of  a 
Moor. 

"  Balak!  Balak!  "  cried  the  soldier  in  front,  and 
still  the  chant  of  the  crier  rang  out  over  all  other 
noises. 

At  every  step  the  throng  increased.  The  strong 
and  lusty  bore  down  the  weak  in  the  struggle  to  get 
near  to  the  procession.  Blind  beggars  and  feeble 
cripples  who  could  not  see  or  stir  shouted  hideous 
oaths  at  Israel  from  the  back  of  the  crowd. 

As  the  procession  went  past  the  gates  of  the  Mel- 
lah,  two  companies  came  out  into  the  town.  The 
one  was  a  company  of  soldiers  returning  to  the  Kas- 
bah  after  sacking  and  wrecking  Israel's  house;  the 
other  was  a  company  of  old  Jews,  among  whom  were 
Reuben  Maliki,  Abraham  Pigman,  and  Judah  ben 
Lolo.  At  the  advent  of  the  three  usurers  a  new  im- 
pulse seized  the  people.  They  pretended  to  take  the 
procession  for  a  triumphal  progress — the  departure 
of  a  Kaid,  a  Shereef,  a  Sultan.  The  soldier  and  police 
I'll  into  the  humour  of  the  multitude.  Salaams  were 
made  to  Israel;  selhams  were  flung  on  the  ground  be- 
fore   the    feet    of    Naomi.      Reuben    Maliki    pushed 


THE  RAINBOW  SIGN.  243 

through  the  crowd,  and  walked  backward,  and  cried, 
in  his  harsh,  nasal  croak — 

"  Brothers  of  Tetuan,  behold  your  benefactor! 
Make  way  for  him!    Make  way!  make  way!  " 

Then  there  were  loud  guffaws,  and  oaths,  and 
cries  like  the  cry  of  the  hyena.  Last  of  all,  old  Abra- 
ham Pigman  handed  over  the  people's  heads  a  huge 
green  Spanish  umbrella  to  a  negro  farrier  that  walked 
within;  and  the  black  fellow,  showing  his  white  teeth 
in  a  wide  grin,  held  it  over  Israel's  head. 

Then  from  fifty  rasping  throats  came  mocking 
cries. 

"God  bless  our  Lord!" 

"  Saviour  of  his  people!  " 

"Benefactor  !    King  of  men!" 

And  over  and  between  these  cries  came  shrieks  and 
yells  of  laughter. 

All  this  time  Israel  had  sat  motionless  on  his  ass, 
neither  showing  humiliation  nor  fear.  His  face  was 
worn  and  ashy,  but  his  eyes  burned  with  a  piteous 
fire.  He  looked  up  and  saw  everything:  saw  himself 
mocked  by  the  soldier  and  the  crier,  insulted  by  the 
Muslimeen,  derided  by  the  Jews,  spat  upon  and  smit- 
ten by  the  people  whose  hungry  mouths  he  had  fed 
with  bread.  Above  all,  he  saw  Naomi  going  before 
him  in  her  shame,  and  at  that  sight  his  heart  bled  and 
his  spirit  burned.  And,  thinking  that  it  was  he  who 
had  brought  her  to  this  ignominy,  he  sometimes 
yearned  to  reach  her  side  and  whisper  in  her  ear,  and 
say,  "  Forgive  me,  my  child,  forgive  me."  But  again 
he  conquered  the  desire,  for  he  remembered  what  God 
had  that  day  done  for  her;  and  taking  it  for  a  sign  of 
God's  pleasure,  and  a  warranty  that  he  had  done  well, 
he  raised  his  eyes  on  her  with  tears  of  bitter  joy,  and 
17 


244  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

thought,  in  the  wild  fever  of  his  soul,  "  She  is  shar- 
ing the  triumph  of  my  humiliation.  She  is  walk- 
ing through  the  mocking  and  jeering  crowd,  but  see! 
God  Himself  is  walking  beside  her!  " 

The  procession  had  now  come  to  the  walled  lane 
to  the  Bab  Toot,  the  gate  going  out  to  Tangier  and  to 
Shawan.  There  the  way  was  so  narrow  and  the  con- 
course so  great  that  for  a  moment  the  procession  was 
brought  to  a  stand.  Seizing  this  opportunity,  Eeuben 
Maliki  stepped  up  to  Israel  and  said,  so  that  all  might 
hear,  "  Look  at  the  crowds  that  have  come  out  to 
speed  you,  0  saviour  of  your  people!  Look!  look! 
We  shall  all  remember  this  day!  " 

"So  you  shall!"  cried  Israel.  "Until  your  days 
of  death  you  shall  all  remember  it!  " 

He  had  not  spoken  before,  and  some  of  the  Moors 
tried  to  laugh  at  his  answer;  but  his  voice,  which  was 
like  a  frenzied  cry,  went  to  the  hearts  of  the  Jews,  and 
many  of  them  fell  away  from  the  crowd  straightway, 
and  followed  it  no  farther.  It  was  the  cry  of  the  voice 
of  a  brother.    They  had  been  insulting  calamity  itself. 

"Balak! "  shouted  the  soldier,  and  the  crier  cried 
once  more,  and  the  procession  moved  again. 

It  was  the  hour  of  Israel's  last  temptation.  Not 
a  glance  in  his  face  disclosed  passion,  but  his  heart 
was  afire.  The  devil  seemed  to  he  jarring  at  his  ear, 
"  Look!  Listen!  Is  it  for  people  like  these  that  you 
have  come  to  this?  Were  they  worth  the  sacrifice? 
You  might  have  been  rich  and  great,  and  riding  on 
their  heads.  They  would  have  honoured  you  then, 
but  now  they  despise  you.  Fool!  You  have  sold 
all  and  given  to  the  poor,  and  this  is  the  end  of  it." 
But  in  the  throes  and  last  gasp  of  his  agony,  hearing 
this  voice  in  his  ear,  and  seeing  Naomi  going  bare- 


THE  RAINBOW  SIGN.  245 

footed  on  the  stones  before  him,  an  angel  seemed  to 
come  to  him  and  whisper,  "  Be  strong.  Only  a  little 
longer.  Finish  as  you  have  begun.  Well  done,  serv- 
ant of  God,  well  done!  " 

He  did  not  flinch,  but  rode  on  without  a  word  or  a 
cry.  Once  he  lifted  his  head  and  looked  down  at  the 
steaming,  gaping,  grinning  cauldron  of  faces  black 
and  white.  "  0  pity  of  men!  "  he  thought.  "  What 
devil  is  tempting  them?  " 

By  this  time  the  procession  had  come  to  the  town 
walls  at  a  point  near  to  the  Bab  Toot.  No  one  had 
observed  until  then  that  the  rain  was  no  longer  fall- 
ing, but  now  everybody  was  made  aware  of  this  at 
once  by  sight  of  a  rainbow  which  spanned  the  sky  to 
the  northwest  immediately  over  the  arch  of  the  gate. 

Israel  saw  the  rainbow,  and  took  it  for  a  sign.  It 
was  God's  hand  in  the  heavens.  To  this  gate  then, 
and  through  it,  out  of  Tetuan,  into  the  land  beyond 
— the  plains,  the  hills,  the  desert  where  no  man  was 
wronged — God  Himself,  and  not  these  people,  had 
that  day  been  leading  them! 

What  happened  next  Israel  never  rightly  knew. 
His  proper  sense  of  life  seemed  lost.  Through  thick 
waves  of  hot  air  he  heard  many  voices. 

First  the  voice  of  the  crier,  "  So  shall  it  be  done 
to  every  man  who  is  an  enemy  of  the  Kaid,  and  to 
every  woman  who  is  a  play-actor  and  a  cheat." 

Then  the  voice  of  the  soldier,  "  Balak!     Balak! " 

After  that  a  multitudinous  din  that  seemed  to 
break  off  sharply  and  then  to  come  muffled  and 
dense  as  from  the  other  side  of  the  closed  gate. 

When  Israel  came  to  himself  again  he  was  walking 
on  a  barren  heath  that  was  dotted  over  with  clumps  of 
the  long  aloe,  and  he  was  holding  Naomi  by  the  hand. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

life's  new  language. 

Two  days  after  they  had  been  cast  out  of  Tetuan, 
Israel  and  Naomi  were  settled  in  a  little  house  that 
stood  a  day's  walk  to  the  north  of  the  town,  about 
midway  between  the  village  of  Semsa  and  the  fondak 
which  lies  on  the  road  to  Tangier.  From  the  hour 
wherein  the  gates  had  closed  behind  them,  every- 
thing had  gone  well  with  both.  The  country  people 
who  lay  encamped  on  the  heath  outside  had  gath- 
ered around  and  shown  them  kindness.  One  old 
Arab  woman,  seeing  Naomi's  shame,  had  come  behind 
without  a  word  and  cast  a  blanket  over  her  head 
and  shoulders.  Then  a  girl  of  the  Berber  folk  had 
brought  slippers  and  drawn  them  on  to  Naomi's  feet. 
The  woman  wore  no  blanket  herself,  and  the  feet 
of  the  girl  were  bare.  Their  own  people  were  hag- 
gard and  hollow-eyed  and  hungry,  but  the  hearts  of 
all  were  melted  towards  the  great  man  in  his  dark 
hour.  "  Allah  had  written  it,"  they  muttered,  but 
they  were  more  merciful  than  they  thought  their 
God. 

Thus,  amid  silent  pity  and  audible  peace-bless- 
ings, with  cheer  of  kind  words  and  comfort  of  food 
and  drink,  Israel  and  Naomi  had  wandered  on 
through  the  country  from  village  to  village,  until  in 
the  evening,  an  hour  after  sundown,  they  came  upon 
246 


LIFE'S  NEW   LANGUAGE.  247 

the  hut  wherein  they  made  their  home.  It  was  a 
poor,  mean  place — neither  a  round  tent,  such  as  the 
mountain  Berbers  build,  nor  a  square  cube  of  white 
stone,  with  its  garden  in  a  court  within,  such  as  a 
Moorish  farmer  rears  for  his  homestead,  but  an  ob- 
long shed,  roofed  with  rushes  and  palmetto  leaves 
in  the  manner  of  an  Irish  cabin.  And,  indeed,  the 
cabin  of  an  Irish  renegade  it  had  been,  who,  escaping 
at  Gibraltar  from  the  ship  that  was  taking  him  to 
Sidney,  had  sailed  in  a  Genoese  trader  to  Ceuta,  and 
made  his  way  across  the  land  until  he  came  to  this 
lonesome  spot  near  to  Semsa.  Unlike  the  better  part 
of  his  countrymen,  he  had  been  a  man  of  solitary 
habit  and  gloomy  temper,  and  while  he  lived  he  had 
been  shunned  by  his  neighbours,  and  when  he  died 
his  house  had  been  left  alone.  That  was  the  chance 
whereby  Israel  and  Naomi  had  come  to  possess  it, 
being  both  poor  and  unclaimed. 

Nevertheless,  though  bare  enough  of  most  things 
that  man  makes  and  values,  yet  the  little  place  was 
rich  in  some  of  the  wealth  that  comes  only  from  the 
hand  of  God.  Thus  marjoram  and  jasmine  and 
pinks  and  roses  grew  at  the  foot  of  its  walls,  and  it 
was  these  sweet  flowers  which  had  first  caught  the 
eyes  of  Israel.  For  suddenly  through  the  mazes  of 
his  mind,  where  every  perception  was  indistinct  at 
that  time,  there  seemed  to  come  back  to  him  a  vague 
and  confused  recollection  of  the  abandoned  house, 
as  if  the  thing  that  his  eyes  then  saw  they  had 
surely  seen  before.  How  this  should  be  Israel  could 
not  tell,  seeing  that  never  before  to  his  knowledge 
had  he  passed  on  his  way  to  Tangier  so  near  to  Semsa. 
But  when  he  questioned  himself  again,  it  came  to 
him,  like  light  beaming  into  a  dark  room,  that  not 


248  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

in  any  waking  hour  at  all  had  he  seen  the  little 
place  before,  but  in  a  dream  of  the  night  when  he 
slept  on  the  ground  in  the  poor  fondak  of  the  Jews 
at  Wazan. 

This,  then,  was  the  cottage  where  he  had  dreamed 
that  he  lived  with  Naomi;  this  was  where  she  had 
seemed  to  have  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to  hear  and  a 
tongue  to  speak;  this  was  the  vision  of  his  dead  wife, 
which  when  he  awoke  on  his  journey  had  appeared 
to  be  vainly  reflected  in  his  dream;  and  now  it  was 
realised,  it  was  true,  it  had  come  to  pass.  Israel's 
heart  was  full,  and  being  at  that  time  ready  to  see 
the  leading  of  Heaven  in  everything,  he  saw  it  in  this 
fact  also;  and  thus,  without  more  ado  than  such  in- 
quiries as  were  necessary,  he  settled  himself  with 
Xaomi  in  the  place  they  had  chanced  upon. 

And  there,  through  some  months  following,  from 
the  height  of  the  summer  until  the  falling  of  winter, 
they  lived  together  in  peace  and  content,  lacking 
much,  yet  wanting  nothing;  short  of  many  things 
that  are  thought  to  make  men's  condition  happy,  but 
grateful  and  thanking  God. 

Israel  was  poor,  but  not  penniless.  Out  of  the 
wreck  of  his  fortune,  after  he  sold  the  best  contents 
of  his  house,  he  had  still  some  three  hundred  dol- 
lars remaining  in  the  pocket  of  his  waistband  when 
he  was  cast  out  of  the  town.  These  he  laid  out  in 
sheep  and  goats  and  oxen.  He  hired  land  also  of  a 
tenant  of  the  Basha,  and  sent  wool  and  milk  by  the 
hand  of  a  neighbour  to  the  market  at  Tetuan.  The 
rains  continued,  the  eggs  of  the  locust  were  destroyed, 
the  grass  came  green  out  of  the  ground,  and  Israel 
found  bread  for  both  of  them.  With  such  simple 
hushandry,  and  in  such  a  home,  giving  no  thought 


LIFE'S  NEW  LANGUAGE.  249 

to  the  morrow,  he  passed  with  cheer  and  comfort 
from  day  to  day. 

And  truly,  if  at  any  weaker  moment  he  had  heen 
minded  to  repine  for  the  loss  of  his  former  poor 
greatness,  or  to  fail  of  heart  in  pursuit  of  his  new 
calling,  for  which  heavier  hands  were  better  fit,  he 
had  always  with  him  two  bulwarks  of  his  purpose 
and  sheet-anchors  of  his  hope.  He  was  reminded  of 
the  one  as  often  as  in  the  daytime  he  climbed  the 
hillside  above  his  little  dwelling  and  saw  the  white 
town  lying  far  away  under  its  gauzy  canopy  of  mist, 
and  whenever  in  the  night  the  town  lamps  sent  their 
pale  sheet  of  light  into  the  dark  sky. 

"  They  are  yonder,"  he  would  think,  "  wrangling, 
contending,  fighting,  praying,  cursing,  blessing,  and 
cheating,  and  I  am  here,  cut  off  from  them  by  ten 
deep  miles  of  darkness,  in  the  quiet,  the  silence,  and 
sweet  odour  of  God's  proper  air." 

But  stronger  to  sustain  him  than  any  memory  of 
the  ways  of  his  former  life  was  the  recollection  of 
Naomi.  God  had  given  back  all  her  gifts,  and  what 
were  poverty  and  hard  toil  against  so  great  a  bless- 
ing? They  were  as  dust,  they  were  as  ashes,  they 
were  what  power  of  the  world  and  riches  of  gold  and 
silver  had  been  without  it.  And  higher  than  the  joy 
of  Israel's  constant  remembrance  that  Naomi  had 
been  blind  and  could  now  see,  and  deaf  and  could 
now  hear,  and  dumb  and  could  now  speak,  was  the 
solemn  thought  that  all  this  was  but  the  sign  and 
symbol  of  God's  pleasure,  and  assurance  to  his  soul 
that  the  lot  of  the  scapegoat  had  been  lifted  away. 

More  satisfying  still  to  the  hunger  of  his  heart  as 
a  man  was  his  delicious  pleasure  in  Naomi's  new- 
found life.     She  was  like  a  creature  born  afresh,  a 


250  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

radiant  and  joyful  being  newly  awakened  into  a 
world  of  strange  sights. 

But  it  was  not  at  once  that  she  fell  upon  this 
pleasure.  What  happened  to  her  was,  after  all,  a 
simple  thing.  Born  with  cataract  on  the  pupils  of 
her  eyes,  the  emotion  of  the  moment  at  the  Kasbah, 
when  her  father's  life  seemed  to  be  once  more  in 
danger,  had — like  a  fall  or  a  blow — luxated  the  lens 
and  left  the  pupils  clear.  That  was  all.  Through- 
out the  day  whereon  the  last  of  her  great  gifts  came 
to  her,  when  they  were  cast  out  of  Tetuan,  and  while 
they  walked  hand  in  hand  through  the  country  until 
they  lit  upon  their  home,  she  had  kept  her  eyes  stead- 
fastly closed.  The  light  terrified  her.  It  penetrated 
her  delicate  lids,  and  gave  her  pain.  When  for  a 
moment  she  lifted  her  lashes  and  saw  the  trees,  she 
put  out  her  hand  as  if  to  push  them  away;  and  when 
she  saw  the  sky,  she  raised  her  arms  as  if  to  hold  it 
off.  Everything  seemed  to  touch  her  eyes.  The 
bars  of  sunlight  seemed  to  smite  them.  Not  until 
the  falling  of  darkness  did  her  fears  subside  and  her 
spirits  revive.  Throughout  the  day  that  followed  she 
sat  constantly  in  the  gloom  of  the  blackest  corner  of 
their  hut. 

But  this  was  only  her  baptism  of  light  on  coming 
out  of  a  world  of  darkness,  just  as  her  fear  of  the 
voices  of  the  earth  and  air  had  been  her  baptism  of 
sound  on  coming  out  of  a  land  of  silence.  Within 
three  days  afterwards  her  terror  began  to  give  place 
to  joy;  and  from  that  time  forward  the  world  was 
full  of  wonder  to  her  opened  eyes.  Then  sweet  and 
beautiful,  beyond  all  dreams  of  fancy,  were  her 
amazement  and  delight  in  every  little  thing  that  lay 
about  her — the  grass,  the  weeds,  the  poorest  flower 


LIFE'S  NEW  LANGUAGE.  251 

that  blew,  even  the  rude  implements  of  the  house 
and  the  common  stones  that  worked  up  through  the 
mould — all  old  and  familiar  to  her  fingers,  but  new 
and  strange  to  her  eyes,  and  marvellous  as  if  an 
angel  out  of  heaven  had  dropped  them  down  to  her. 

For  many  days  after  the  coming  of  her  sight  she 
continued  to  recognise  everything  by  touch  and 
sound.  Thus  one  morning  early  in  their  life  in  the 
cottage,  and  early  also  in  the  day,  after  Israel  had 
kissed  her  on  the  eyelids  to  awaken  her,  and  she  had 
opened  them  and  gazed  up  at  him  as  he  stooped 
above  her,  she  looked  puzzled  for  an  instant,  being 
still  in  the  mists  of  sleep,  and  only  when  she  had 
closed  her  eyes  again,  and  put  out  her  hand  to  touch 
him,  did  her  face  brighten  with  recognition  and  her 
lips  utter  his  name.  "  My  father,"  she  murmured, 
"  my  father." 

Thus  again,  the  same  day,  not  an  hour  afterwards, 
she  came  running  back  to  the  house  from  the  grass 
bank  in  front  of  it,  holding  a  flower  in  her  hand,  and 
asking  a  world  of  hot  questions  concerning  it  in  her 
broken,  lisping,  pretty  speech.  Why  had  no  one  told 
her  that  there  were  flowers  that  could  see?  Here 
was  one  which  while  she  looked  upon  it  had  opened 
its  beautiful  eye  and  laughed  at  her.  "  What  is  it?  ': 
she  asked;  "  what  is  it?  " 

"  A  daisy,  my  child,"  Israel  answered. 

"A  daisy!  "  she  cried  in  bewilderment;  and  dur- 
ing the  short  hush  and  quick  inspiration  that  fol- 
lowed she  closed  her  eyes  and  passed  her  nervous  fin- 
gers rapidly  over  the  little  ring  of  sprinkled  spears, 
and  then  said  very  softly,  with  head  aslant  as  if 
ashamed,  "  Oh  yes,  so  it  is;  it  is  only  a  daisy." 

But  to  tell  of  how  those  first  days  of  sight  sped 


252  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

along  for  Naomi,  with  what  delight  of  ever-fresh  sur- 
prise, and  joy  of  new  wonder,  would  be  a  long  task 
if  a  beautiful  one.  They  were  some  miles  inside  the 
coast,  but  from  the  little  hill-top  near  at  hand  they 
could  see  it  clearly;  and  one  day  when  Naomi  had 
gone  so  far  with  her  father,  she  drew  up  suddenly  at 
his  side,  and  cried  in  a  breathless  voice  of  awe,  "  The 
sky!  the  sky!     Look!     It  has  fallen  on  to  the  land." 

"  That  is  the  sea,  my  child,"  said  Israel. 

"  The  sea!  "  she  cried,  and  then  she  closed  her 
eyes  and  listened,  and  then  opened  them  and  blushed, 
and  said,  while  her  knitted  brows  smoothed  out  and 
her  beautiful  face  looked  aside,  "  So  it  is — yes,  it  is 
the  sea." 

Throughout  that  day  and  the  night  which  fol- 
lowed it  the  eyes  of  her  mind  were  entranced  by  the 
marvel  of  that  vision,  and  next  morning  she  mounted 
the  hill  alone  to  look  upon  it  again;  and,  being  so 
far,  she  walked  farther  and  yet  farther,  wandering 
on  and  on,  through  fields  where  lavender  grew  and 
chamomile  blossomed,  on  and  on,  as  though  drawn 
by  the  enchantment  of  the  mighty  deep  that  lay 
sparkling  in  the  sun,  until  at  last  she  came  to  the 
head  of  a  deep  gully  in  the  coast.  Still  the  wonder 
of  the  waters  held  her,  but  another  marvel  now  seized 
upon  her  sight.  The  gully  was  a  lonesome  place  in- 
habited by  countless  sea-birds.  From  high  up  in  the 
rocks  above,  and  from  far  down  in  the  chasm  below, 
from  every  cleft  on  every  side,  they  flew  out.  with 
white  wings  and  black  ones  and  grey  and  blue,  and 
sent  their  voices  into  the  air,  until  the  echoing  place 
seemed  to  shriek  and  yell  with  a  deafening  clangour. 

It  was  midday  when  Naomi  reached  this  spot,  and 
she  sat  there  a  long  hour  in  fear  and  consternation. 


LIFE'S  NEW  LANGUAGE.  253 

And  when  she  returned  to  her  father,  she  told  him 
awesome  stories  of  demons  that  lived  in  thousands 
by  the  sea,  and  fought  in  the  air  and  killed  each  other. 
"  And  see!  "  she  cried;  "  look  at  this,  and  this,  and 
this!  " 

Then  Israel  glanced  at  the  wrecks  she  had  brought 
with  her  of  the  devilish  warfare  that  she  had  wit- 
nessed, and  "  This,"  said  he,  lifting  one  of  them,  "  is 
a  sea-bird's  feather;  and  this,"  lifting  another,  "  is 
a  sea-bird's  egg;  and  this,"  lifting  the  third,  "is  a 
dead  sea-bird  itself." 

Once  more  Naomi  knit  her  brows  in  thought,  and 
again  she  closed  her  eyes  and  touched  the  familiar 
things  wherein  her  sight  had  deceived  her.  "  Ah 
yes,"  she  said  meekly,  looking  into  her  father's  eyes 
with  a  smile,  "  they  are  only  that  after  all."  And 
then  she  said  very  quietly,  as  if  speaking  to  herself, 
"  What  a  long  time  it  is  before  you  learn  to  see! '; 

It  was  partly  due  to  the  isolation  of  her  upbring- 
ing in  the  company  of  Israel  that  nearly  every  fresh 
wonder  that  encountered  her  eyes  took  shapes  of 
supernatural  horror  or  splendour.  One  early  even- 
ing, when  she  had  remained  out  of  the  house  until 
the  day  was  well-nigh  done,  she  came  back  in  a  wild 
ecstasy  to  tell  of  angels  that  she  had  just  seen  in 
the  sky.  They  were  in  robes  of  crimson  and  scarlet, 
their  wings  blazed  like  fire,  they  swept  across  the 
clouds  in  multitudes,  and  went  down  behind  the  world 
together,  passing  out  of  the  earth  through  the  gates 
of  heaven. 

Israel  listened  to  her  and  said,  "  That  was  the 
sunset,  my  child.  Every  morning  the  sun  rises  and 
every  night  it  sets." 

Then  she  looked  full  into  his  face  and  blushed. 


254  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Her  shame  at  her  sweet  errors  sometimes  conquered 
her  joy  in  the  new  heritage  of  sight,  and  Israel  heard 
her  whisper  to  herself  and  say,  "  After  all,  the  eyes 
are  deceitful."  Vision  was  life's  new  language,  and 
she  had  yet  to  learn  it. 

But  not  for  long  was  her  delight  in  the  beautiful 
things  of  the  world  to  be  damped  by  any  thought  of 
herself.  Nay,  the  best  and  rarest  part  of  it,  the 
dearest  and  most  delicious  throb  of  it,  came  of  herself 
alone.  On  another  early  day  Israel  took  her  to  the 
coast,  and  pushed  off  with  her  on  the  waters  in  a 
boat.  The  air  was  still,  the  sea  was  smooth,  the 
miu  was  shining,  and  save  for  one  white  scarf  of  cloud 
the  sky  was  blue.  They  were  sailing  in  a  tiny  bay 
that  was  broken  by  a  little  island,  which  lay  in  the 
midst  like  a  ruby  in  a  ring,  covered  with  heather  and 
long  stalks  of  seeding  grass.  Through  whispering 
beds  of  rushes  they  glided  on,  and  floated  over  banks 
of  coral  where  gleaming  fishes  were  at  play.  Sea- 
fowl  screamed  over  their  heads,  as  if  in  anger  at 
their  invasion,  and  under  their  oars  the  moss  lay  in 
the  shallows  on  the  pebbles  and  great  stones.  It  was 
a  morning  of  God's  own  making,  and,  for  joy  of  its 
loveliness  no  less  than  of  her  own  bounding  life, 
Xaomi  rose  in  the  boat  and  opened  her  lips  and  arms 
to  the  breeze  while  it  played  with  the  rippling  cur- 
rents of  her  hair,  as  if  she  would  drink  and  embrace  it. 

At  that  moment  a  new  and  dearer  wonder  came 
to  her,  such  as  every  maiden  knows  whom  God  has 
made  beautiful,  yet  none  remembers  the  hour  when 
she  knew  it  first.  For,  tracing  with  her  eyes  the 
shadow  of  the  cliff  and  of  the  continent  of  cloud 
that  sailed  double  in  two  seas  of  blue  to  where  they 
wore  broken  by  the  dazzling  half-round  of  the  sun's 


LIFE'S  NEW  LANGUAGE.  255 

reflected  disc  on  the  shadowed  quarter  of  the  boat,  she 
leaned  over  the  side  of  it,  and  then  saw  the  reflection 
of  another  and  lovelier  vision. 

"  Father,"  she  cried  in  alarm,  "  a  face  in  the 
water!     Look!  look! " 

"  It  is  your  own,  my  child,"  said  Israel. 

"Mine!"  she  cried. 

"  The  reflection  of  your  face,"  said  Israel;  "  the 
light  and  the  water  make  it." 

The  marvel  was  hard  to  understand.  There  was 
something  ghostly  in  this  thing  that  was  herself  and 
yet  not  herself,  this  face  that  looked  up  at  her  and 
laughed  and  yet  made  no  voice.  She  leaned  back  in 
the  boat  and  asked  Israel  if  it  was  still  in  the  water. 
But  when  at  length  she  had  grasped  the  mystery,  the 
artlessness  of  her  joy  was  charming.  She  was  like 
a  child  in  her  delight,  and  like  a  woman  that  was  still 
a  child  in  her  unconscious  love  of  her  own  loveliness. 
Whenever  the  boat  was  at  rest  she  leaned  over  its 
bulwark  and  gazed  down  into  the  blue  depths. 

"  How  beautiful!  "  she  cried,  "  how  beautiful!  " 

She  clapped  her  hands  and  looked  again,  and 
there  in  the  still  water  was  the  wonder  of  her  dancing 
eyes.  "  Oh!  how  very  beautiful!  "  she  cried  without 
lifting  her  face,  and  when  she  saw  her  lips  move  as 
she  spoke  and  her  sunny  hair  fall  about  her  restless 
head  she  laughed  and  laughed  again  with  a  heart 
of  glee. 

Israel  looked  on  for  some  moments  at  this  sweet 
picture,  and,  for  all  his  sense  of  the  dangers  of 
Naomi's  artless  joy  in  her  own  beauty,  he  could  not 
find  it  in  his  heart  to  check  her.  He  had  borne  too 
long  the  pain  and  shame  of  one  who  was  father  of  an 
afflicted  child  to  deny  himself  this  choking  rapture 


256  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

of  her  recovery.  "  Live  on  like  a  child  always,  little 
one,"  he  thought;  "  be  a  child  as  long  as  you  can, 
he  a  child  for  ever,  my  dove,  my  darling!  Never  did 
the  world  suffer  it  that  I  myself  should  he  a  child 
at  all." 

The  artlessness  of  Naomi  increased  day  by  day, 
and  found  constantly  some  new  fashion  of  charming 
strangeness.  All  lovely  things  on  the  earth  seemed 
to  speak  to  her,  and  she  could  talk  with  the  birds  and 
the  flowers.  Also  she  would  lie  down  in  the  grass 
and  rest  like  a  lamb,  with  as  little  shame  and  with 
a  grace  as  sweet.  Not  yet  had  the  great  mystery 
dawned  that  drops  on  a  girl  like  an  unseen  mantle 
out  of  the  sky,  and  when  it  has  covered  her  she  is  a 
child  no  more.  Naomi  was  a  child  still.  Nay,  she  was 
a  child  a  second  time,  for  while  she  had  been  blind 
she  had  seemed  for  a  little  while  to  become  a  woman 
in  the  awful  revelation  of  her  infirmity  and  isolation. 
Now  -he  was  a  weak,  patient,  blind  maiden  no  longer, 
but  a  reckless  spirit  of  joy  once  again,  a  restless  gleam 
of  human  sunlight  gathering  sunshine  into  her  fa- 
ther's house. 

It  was  fit  and  beautiful  that  she  who  had  lived 
so  long  without  the  better  part  of  the  gifts  of  God 
should  enjoy  some  of  them  at  length  in  rare  perfec- 
tion. 1 1  or  sight  was  strong  and  her  hearing  was 
keen,  but  voice  was  the  gift  which  she  had  in  abund- 
ance. So  sweet,  so  full,  so  deep,  so  soft  a  voice  as 
Naomi's  came  to  be,  Israel  thought  he  had  never 
heard  before.  Euth's  voice?  Yes,  but  fraught  with 
inspiration,  replete  with  sparkling  life,  and  passion- 
ate with  the  notee  of  a  joyous  heart.  All  day  long 
Naomi  used  it.  She  sang  as  she  rose  in  the  morning, 
and  was  still  singing  when  she  lay  down  at  night. 


LIFE'S  NEW  LANGUAGE.  257 

Wherever  people  came  upon  her,  they  came  first  upon 
the  sound  of  her  voice.  The  farmers  heard  it  across 
the  fields,  and  sometimes  Israel  heard  it  from  over  the 
hill  by  their  hut.  Often  she  seemed  to  them  like  a 
bird  that  is  hidden  in  a  tree,  and  only  known  to  be 
there  by  the  outbursts  of  its  song. 

Fatimah's  ditties  were  still  her  delight.  Some  of 
them  fell  strangely  from  her  pure  lips,  so  nearly  did 
they  border  on  the  dangerous.  But  her  favourite 
song  was  still  her  mother's: — 

Oh,  come  and  claim  thine  own, 
Oh,  come  and  take  thy  throne, 
Reign  ever  and  alone, 
Reign,  glorious,  golden  Love. 

Into  these  words,  as  her  voice  ripened,  she  seemed 
to  pour  a  deeper  fervour.  She  was  as  innocent  as  a 
child  of  their  meaning,  but  it  was  almost  as  if  she 
were  fulfilling  in  some  way  a  law  of  her  nature  as  a 
maid  and  rifting  blindly  towards  the  dawn  of  Love. 
Never  did  she  think  of  Love,  but  it  was  just  as  if 
Love  were  always  thinking  of  her;  it  was  even  as  if 
the  spirit  of  Love  were  hovering  over  her  constantly, 
and  she  were  walking  in  the  way  of  its  outstretched 
wings. 

Israel  saw  this,  and  it  set  him  to  chasing  day- 
dreams that  were  like  the  drawing  up  of  a  curtain.  A 
beautiful  phantom  of  Naomi's  future  would  rise  up 
before  him.  Love  had  come  to  her.  The  great  mys- 
tery, the  rapture,  the  blissful  wonder,  the  dear,  secret, 
delicious,  palpitating  joy.  He  knew  it  must  come 
some  day — perhaps  to-day,  perhaps  to-morrow.  And 
when  it  came  it  would  be  like  a  sixth  sense. 

In  quieter  moments — generally  at  night,  when  he 
would  take  a  candle  and  look  at  her  where  she  lay 


258  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

asleep — Israel  would  carry  his  dreams  into  Naomi's 
future  one  stage  farther,  and  see  her  in  the  first  dawn 
of  young  motherhood.  Her  delicate  face  of  pink  and 
cream;  her  glance  of  pride  and  joy  and  yearning,  and 
then  the  thrill  of  the  little  spreading  red  fingers  fas- 
tening on  her  white  bosom — oh,  what  a  glimpse  was 
there  revealed  to  him! 

But  struggle  as  he  would  to  find  pleasure  in  these 
phantoms,  he  could  not  help  hut  feel  pain  from  them 
also.  They  had  a  perilous  fascination  for  him,  but  he 
grudged  them  to  Naomi.  He  thought  he  could  have 
given  his  immortal  soul  to  her,  but  these  shadows  he 
could  not  give.  That  was  his  poor  tribute  to  human 
selfishness;  his  last  tender,  jealous  frailty  as  a  father. 
He  dreaded  the  coming  of  that  time  when  another — 
some  other  yet  unseen — should  come  before  him,  and 
he  should  lose  the  daughter  that  was  now  his  own. 

Somtimes  the  memory  of  their  old  troubles  in 
Tetuan  seemed  to  cross  like  a  thundercloud  the  azure 
of  Naomi's  sky,  but  at  the  next  hour  it  was  gone.  The 
world  was  too  full  of  marvels  for  any  enduring  sense 
but  wonder.  Once  she  awoke  from  sleep  in  terror, 
and  told  Israel  of  something  which  she  believed  to 
have  happened  to  her  in  the  night.  She  had  been  car- 
ried away  from  him — she  could  not  say  when — and 
she  knew  no  more  until  she  found  herself  in  a  great 
patio,  paved  and  walled  with  files.  Men  were  stand- 
ing together  there  in  red  peaked  caps  and  flowing 
white  kaftans.  And  before  them  all  was  one  old  man 
in  garments  that  were  of  the  colour  of  the  afternoon 
sun,  with  sleeves  like  the  mouths  of  bells,  a  curling 
silver  knife  at  his  waistband,  and  little  leather  bags 
hung  by  yellow  cords  about  his  neck.  Beside  this  man 
there  was  a  woman  of  a  laughing  cruel  face;  and  she 


LIFE'S  NEW  LANGUAGE.  259 

herself,  Naomi — alone,  her  father  being  nowhere  near 
— stood  in  the  midst  with  all  eyes  upon  her.  What 
happened  next  she  did  not  know,  for  blank  darkness 
fell  upon  everything,  and  in  that  interval  they  who 
had  taken  her  away  must  have  brought  her  back.  For 
when  she  opened  her  eyes  she  was  in  her  own  bed,  and 
the  things  of  their  little  home  were  about  her,  and  her 
father's  eyes  were  looking  down  at  her,  and  his  lips 
were  kissing  her,  and  the  sun  was  shining  outside, 
and  the  birds  were  singing,  and  the  long  grass  was 
whispering  in  the  breeze,  and  it  was  the  same  as  if 
she  had  been  asleep  during  the  night  and  was  just 
awakening  in  the  morning. 

"  It  was  a  dream,  my  child,"  said  Israel,  thinking 
only  with  how  vivid  a  sense  her  eyes  had  gathered  up 
in  that  instant  of  first  sight  the  picture  of  that  day 
at  the  Kasbah. 

"  A  dream!  "  she  cried;  "  no,  no!    I  saw  it! " 

Hitherto  her  dreams  had  been  blind  ones,  and  if 
she  dreamt  of  her  own  people  it  had  not  been  of  their 
faces,  but  of  the  touch  of  their  hands  or  the  sound 
of  their  voices.  By  one  of  these  she  had  always  known 
them,  and  sometimes  it  had  been  her  mother's  arms 
that  had  been  about  her,  and  sometimes  her  father's 
lips  that  had  pressed  her  forehead,  and  sometimes 
Ali's  voice  that  had  rung  in  her  ears. 

Israel  smoothed  her  hair  and  calmed  her  fears, 
but,  thinking  both  of  her  dream  and  of  her  artless  say- 
ings, he  said  in  his  heart,  "  She  is  a  child,  a  child  born 
into  life  as  a  maid,  and  without  the  strength  of  a 
child's  weakness.  Oh!  great  is  the  wisdom  which 
orders  it  so  that  we  come  into  the  world  as  babes." 

Thus  realising  Naomi's  childishness,  Israel  kept 

close  guard  and  watch  upon  her  afterwards.     But  if 
18 


260  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

she  was  a  gleam  of  sunlight  in  his  lonely  dwelling, 
like  sunlight  she  came  and  went  in  it,  and  one  day  he 
found  her  near  to  the  track  leading  up  to  the  fondak 
in  talk  with  a  passing  traveller  by  the  way,  whom  he 
recognised  for  the  grossest  profligate  out  of  Tetuan. 
Unveiled,  unabashed,  with  sweet  looks  of  confidence 
she  was  gazing  full  into  the  man's  gross  face,  answer- 
ing his  evil  questions  with  the  artless  simplicity  of 
innocence.  xVt  one  bound  Israel  was  between  them, 
and  in  a  moment  he  had  torn  Naomi  away.  And  that 
night,  while  she  wept  out  her  very  heart  at  the  first 
anger  that  her  father  had  shown  her,  Israel  himself, 
in  a  new  terror  of  his  soul,  was  pouring  out  a  new 
petition  to  God.  "  0  Lord,  my  God,"  he  cried,  "  when 
she  was  blind  and  dumb  and  deaf  she  was  a  thing 
apart,  she  was  a  child  in  no  peril  from  herself,  for  Thy 
hand  did  guide  her,  and  in  none  from  the  world,  for 
no  man  dared  outrage  her  infirmity.  But  now  she  is  a 
maid,  and  her  dangers  are  many,  for  she  is  beautiful, 
and  the  heart  of  man  is  evil.  Keep  me  with  her  al- 
ways, 0  Lord,  to  guard  and  guide  her!  Let  me  not 
leave  her,  for  she  is  without  knowledge  of  good  and 
evil.  Spare  me  a  little  while  longer,  though  I  am 
stricken  in  years.  For  her  sake  spare  me,  0  Lord — 
it  is  the  last  of  my  prayers — the  last,  0  Lord,  the 
last — for  her  sake  spare  me!  " 

God  did  not  hear  the  prayer  of  Israel.  Next 
morning  a  guard  of  soldiers  came  out  from  Tetuan 
and  took  him  prisoner  in  the  name  of  the  Kaid.  The 
release  of  the  poor  followers  of  Absalam  out  of  the 
prison  at  Shawan  had  become  known  by  the  blind 
gratitude  of  one  of  them,  who,  hastening  to  Israel's 
house  in  the  Mellah,  had  flung  himself  down  on  his 
face  before  it. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

ISEAEL  IN  PRISON. 

Short  as  the  time  was — some  three  months  and 
odd  days — since  the  prison  at  Shawan  had  been  emp- 
tied by  order  of  the  warrant  which  Israel  had  sealed 
without  authority  in  the  name  of  Ben  Aboo,  it  was 
now  occupied  by  other  prisoners.  The  remoteness  of 
the  town  in  the  territory  of  the  Akhmas,  and  the  wild 
fanaticism  of  the  Shawanis,  had  made  the  old  fortress 
a  favourite  place  of  banishment  to  such  Kaids  of  other 
provinces  as  looked  for  heavier  ransoms  from  the  rela- 
tives of  victims,  because  the  locality  of  their  imprison- 
ment was  unknown  or  the  danger  of  approaching  it 
was  terrible.  And  thus  it  happened  that  some  fifty 
or  more  men  and  boys  from  near  and  far  were  already 
living  in  the  dungeon  from  which  Israel  and  Ali  to- 
gether had  set  the  other  prisoners  free. 

This  was  the  prison  to  which  Israel  was  taken 
when  he  was  torn  from  Naomi  and  the  simple  home 
that  he  had  made  for  himself  near  Semsa.  "  Ya  Al- 
lah! Let  the  dog  eat  the  crust  which  he  thought  too 
hard  for  his  pups!  "  said  Ben  Aboo,  as  he  sealed  the 
warrant  which  consigned  Israel  to  the  Kaid  of  Sha- 
wan. 

Israel  was  taken  to  the  prison  afoot,  and  reached  it 
on  the  morning  of  the  second  day  after  his  arrest. 
The  sun  was  shining  as  he  approached  the  rude  old 

261 


262  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

block  of  masonry  and  entered  the  passage  that  led 
down  to  the  dungeon.  In  a  little  court  at  the  door 
of  the  place  the  Kaid  el  habs,  the  jailer,  was  sitting 
on  a  mattress,  which  served  him  for  chair  by  day  and 
bed  by  night.  He  was  amusing  himself  with  a  ginbri, 
playing  loud  or  low  according  as  the  tumult  was 
great  or  little  which  came  from  the  other  side  of  a 
barred  and  knotted  doorway  behind  him,  some  four 
feet  high,  and  having  a  round  peephole  in  the 
upper  part  of  it.  On  the  wall  above  hung  leather 
thongs,  and  a  long  Eeefian  flintlock  stood  in  the 
corner. 

At  Israel's  approach  there  were  some  facetious 
comments  between  the  jailer  and  the  guard.  Why  the 
ginbri?  Was  he  practising  for  the  fires  of  Jehinnum? 
Was  he  to  fiddle  for  the  Jinoon?  Well,  what  was  a 
man  to  do  while  the  dogs  inside  were  snarling?  Were 
the  thongs  for  the  correction  of  persons  lacking  un- 
derstanding? Why,  yes;  everybody  knew  their  old 
saying,  "  A  hint  to  the  wise,  a  blow  to  the  fool." 

A  bunch  of  great  keys  rattled,  the  low  doorway 
was  thrown  open,  Israel  stooped  and  went  in,  the  door 
closed  behind  him,  the  footsteps  of  the  guard  died 
away,  and  the  twang  of  the  ginbri  began  again. 

The  prison  was  dark  and  noisome,  some  sixty  feet 
long  by  half  as  many  broad,  supported  by  arches  rest- 
ing on  rotten  pillars,  lighted  only  by  narrow  clefts 
at  either  hand,  exuding  damp  from  its  walls,  dropping 
moisture  from  its  roof,  its  air  full  of  vermin,  and  its 
floor  reeking  of  filth.  And  only  less  horrible  than 
the  prison  itself  was  the  condition  of  the  prisoners. 
Nearly  all  wore  iron  fetters  on  their  legs,  and  some 
were  shackled  to  the  pillars.  At  one  side  a  little  group 
of  them — they  were  Shereefs  from  Wazan — were  con- 


ISRAEL  IN  PRISON.  263 

versing  eagerly  and  gesticulating  wildly;  and  at  the 
other  side  a  larger  company — they  were  Jews  from 
Fez — were  languidly  twisting  palmetto  leaves  into  the 
shape  of  baskets.  Four  Berbers  at  the  farther  end 
were  playing  cards,  and  two  Arabs  that  were  chained 
to  a  column  near  the  door  squatted  on  the  ground 
with  a  battered  old  draughtboard  between  them. 
From  both  groups  of  players  came  loud  shouts  and 
laughter  and  a  running  fire  of  expostulation  and  of 
indignant  and  sarcastic  comment.  Down  went  the 
cards  with  triumphant  bangs,  and  the  moves  of  the 
"  dogs  "  were  like  lightning.  First  a  mocking  voice: 
"You  call  yourself  a  player!  There! — there! — 
there!  "  Then  a  meek,  piping  tone:  "  So — so — ver- 
ily, you  are  my  master.  Well,  let  us  praise  Allah  for 
your  wisdom."  But  soon  a  wild  burst  of  irony:  "  You 
are  like  him  who  killed  the  dog  and  fell  into  the 
river!  See!  thus  I  teach  you  to  boast  over  your 
betters!  I  shave  your  beard!  There! — there! — and 
there! " 

In  the  middle  of  the  reeking  floor — so  placed  that 
the  thin  shaft  of  light  from  the  clefts  at  the  ends 
might  fall  on  them — a  barber-doctor  was  bleeding  a 
youth  from  a  vein  in  the  arm.  "  We're  all  having  it 
done,"  he  was  saying.  It's  good  for  the  internals.  I 
did  it  to  a  shipload  of  pilgrims  once."  A  wild-looking 
creature  sat  in  a  corner — he  was  a  saint,  a  madman,  of 
the  sect  of  the  Darkaoa — rocking  himself  to  and  fro, 
and  crying  "Allah!  Allah!  All-1-lah!  All-1-l-lah!  " 
Near  to  this  person  a  haggard  old  man  of  the  Grega 
sect  was  shaking  and  dancing  at  his  prayers.  And 
not  far  from  either  a  Mukaddam,  a  high  priest  of  the 
Aissa  brotherhood — a  juggler  who  had  travelled 
through  the  country  with  a  lion  by  a  halter — was 


264  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

singing  a  frantic  mockery  of  a  Christian  hymn  to  a 
tune  that  he  had  heard  on  the  coast. 

Such  was  the  scene  of  Israel's  imprisonment,  and 
such  were  the  companions  that  were  to  share  it. 
There  had  been  a  moment's  pause  in  the  clamour  of 
their  babel  as  the  door  opened  and  Israel  entered. 
The  prisoners  knew  him,  and  they  were  aghast. 
Every  eye  looked  up  and  every  mouth  was  agape.  Is- 
rael stood  for  a  time  with  the  closed  door  behind  him. 
He  looked  around,  made  a  step  forward,  hesitated, 
seemed  to  peer  vainly  through  the  darkness  for  bed 
or  mattress,  and  then  sat  down  helplessly  by  a  pillar 
on  the  ground. 

A  young  negro  in  a  coarse  jellab  went  up  to  him 
and  offered  a  bit  of  bread.  "  Hungry,  brother? 
No?"  said  the  youth.  "Cheer  up,  Sidi!  No  good 
letting  the  donkey  ride  on  your  head!  " 

This  person  was  the  Irishman  of  the  company — a 
happy,  reckless,  facetious  dog,  who  had  lost  little  save 
his  liberty  and  cared  nothing  for  his  life,  but  laughed 
and  cheated  and  joked  and  made  doggerel  songs  on 
every  disaster  that  befell  them.  He  made  one  song 
on  himself — 

El  Arby  was  a  black  man, 
They  called  him  "  'Larby  Kosk  ;  " 

He  loved  the  wives  of  the  Kasbah, 
And  stole  slippers  in  the  mosque. 

Israel  was  stunned.  Since  his  arrest  he  had  scarce- 
ly spoken.  "  Stay  here,"  he  had  said  to  Naomi  when 
the  first  outburst  of  her  grief  was  quelled;  "never 
leave  this  place.  Whatever  they  say,  stay  here.  I 
will  come  back."  After  that  he  had  been  like  a  man 
who    was   dumb.      Neither    insult    nor   tyranny   had 


ISRAEL  IN  PRISON.  265 

availed  to  force  a  word  or  a  cry  out  of  him.  He  had 
walked  on  in  silence  doggedly,  hardly  once  glancing 
up  into  the  faces  of  his  guard,  and  never  breaking  his 
fast  save  with  a  draught  of  water  by  the  way- 

At  Shawan,  as  elsewhere  in  Barbary,  the  prisoners 
were  supported  by  their  own  relatives  and  friends,  and 
on  the  day  after  Israel's  arrival  a  number  of  women 
and  children  came  to  the  prison  with  provisions.  It 
was  a  wild  and  gruesome  scene  that  followed.  First, 
the  frantic  search  of  the  prisoners  for  their  wives  and 
sons  and  daughters,  and  their  wild  shouts  as  each 
one  found  his  own.  "Blessed  be  God!  She's  here! 
here!"  Then  the  maddening  cries  of  the  prisoners 
whose  relatives  had  not  come.  "  My  Ayesha!  Where 
is  she?  Curses  on  her  mother!  Why  isn't  she  here?  " 
After  that  the  shrieks  of  despair  from  such  as  learned 
that  their  bread-winners  were  dying  off  one  by  one. 
"Dead,  you  say?"  "Dead!"  "No,  no!"  "Yes, 
acs!  "  "  No,  no,  I  say!  "  "  I  say  yes!  God  forgive  me! 
died  last  week.  But  don't  you  die  too.  Here,  take 
this  bag  of  zummetta."  Then  inquiries  after  absent 
children.  "Little  Selam,  where  is  he?"  "Begging 
in  Tetuan."  "  Poor  boy!  poor  boy!  And  pretty 
M'barka,  what  of  her?  "  "  Alas!  M'barka's  a  public 
woman  now  in  Hoolia's  house  at  Marrakesh.  No, 
don't  curse  her,  Jellali;  the  poor  child  was  driven  to 
it.  What  were  we  to  do  with  the  children  crying  for 
bread  ?  And  then  there  was  nothing  to  fetch  you  this 
journey,  Jellali."  "I'll  not  eat  it  now  it's  brought. 
My  boy  a  beggar  and  my  girl  a  harlot?  By  Allah! 
May  the  Kaid  that  keeps  me  here  roast  alive  in  the 
fires  of  hell!"  Then,  apart  in  one  quiet  corner,  a 
young  Moor  of  Tangier  eating  rice  out  of  the  lap  of 
his  beautiful  young  wife.     "  You'll  not  be  long  com- 


266  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

ing  again,  dearest?  "  he  whispers.    She  wipes  her  eyes 

and  stammers,  "  No — that  is — well "     "  What's 

amiss?"     "  Ali,   I    must   tell   you "      "Well?" 

"  Old  Aaron  Zaggoory  says  I  must  marry  him,  or 
he'll  see  that  both  of  us  starve."  "  Allah!  And  you 
— you?"  "Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  Ali;  the 
hunger  is  on  me,  and  whatever  happens  I — I  can  love 
nobody  else."  "  Curses  on  Aaron  Zaggoory!  Curses 
on  you!    Curses  on  everybody!  " 

No  one  had  come  with  food  for  Israel,  and  seeing 
this,  Larby  the  negro  swaggered  up  to  him,  singing  a 
snatch  and  offering  a  round  cake  of  bread — 

Rusks  are  good  and  kaks  are  sweet 
And  kesksoo  is  both  meat  and  drink ; 
It's  this  for  now,  and  that  for  then, 
But  khalia  still  for  married  men. 

"  You're  like  me,  Sidi,"  he  said;  "  you  want  noth- 
ing," and  he  made  an  upward  movement  of  his  fore- 
finger to  indicate  his  trust  in  Providence.  That  was 
the  gay  rascal's  way  of  saying  that  he  stole  from  the 
bags  of  his  comrades  while  they  slept. 

"  No?  Fasting  yet?  "  he  said,  and  went  off  sing- 
ing as  he  came — 

It  will  make  your  ladies  love  you ; 
It  will  make  them  coo  and  kiss 

"What?"  he  shouted  to  some  one  across  the 
prison,  "eating  khalia  in  the  bird-cage?  Bad,  bad, 
bad!" 

All  this  came  to  Israel's  mind  through  thick  waves 
of  half-consciousness,  but  with  his  heart  he  heard 
nothing,  or  the  very  air  of  the  place  must  have  pois- 
oned him.  He  sat  by  the  pillar  at  which  he  had  first 
placed  himself,  and  hardly  ever  rose  from  it.     With 


ISRAEL  IN  PRISON.  267 

great  slow  eyes  he  gazed  at  everything,  but  nothing 
did  he  see.  Sometimes  he  had  the  look  of  one  who 
listens,  but  never  did  he  hear.  Thus  in  silence  and 
languor  he  passed  from  day  to  day,  and  from  night  to 
night,  scarcely  sleeping,  rarely  eating,  and  seeming 
always  to  be  waiting,  waiting,  waiting. 

Fresh  prisoners  came  at  short  intervals,  and  then 
only  was  Israel's  interest  awakened.  One  question  he 
asked  of  all.  "  Where  from?  "  If  they  answered  from 
Fez,  from  "VVazan,  from  Mequinez,  or  from  Marra- 
kesh,  Israel  turned  aside  and  left  them  without  more 
words.  Then  to  his  fellows  they  might  pour  out  their 
woes  in  loud  wails  and  curses,  but  Israel  would  hear 
no  more. 

Strangers  from  Europe  travelling  through  the 
country  were  allowed  to  look  into  the  prison  through 
the  round  peephole  of  the  door  kept  by  the  Kaid  el 
habs,  who  played  the  ginbri.  The  Jews  who  made 
baskets  took  this  opportunity  to  offer  their  work  for 
sale;  and  so  that  he  might  see  the  visitors  and  speak 
with  them  Israel  would  snatch  up  something  and 
hang  it  out.  Always  his  question  was  the  same. 
"  Where  from  last  ? "  he  would  say  in  English,  or 
Spanish,  or  French,  or  Moorish.  Sometimes  it 
chanced  that  the  strangers  knew  him.  But  he 
showed  no  shame.  Never  did  their  answers  satisfy 
him.     He  would  turn  back  to  his  pillar  with  a  sigh. 

Thus  weeks  went  on,  and  Israel's  face  grew  worn 
and  tired.  His  fellow  prisoners  began  to  show  him 
deference  in  their  own  rude  way.  When  he  came 
among  them  at  the  first  they  had  grinned  and  laughed 
a  little.  To  do  that  was  always  the  impulse  of  the 
poor  souls,  so  miserably  imprisoned,  when  a  new  com- 
rade joined  them.    But  the  majesty  and  the  suffering 


268  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

in  Israel's  face  told  ou  their  hearts  at  last.  He  was  a 
great  man  fallen;  he  had  nothing  left  to  him;  not 
even  bread  to  eat  or  water  to  drink.  So  they  gathered 
about  him  and  hit  on  a  way  to  make  him  share  their 
food.  Bringing  their  sacks  to  his  pillar,  they  stacked 
them  about  it,  and  asked  him  to  serve  out  provisions 
to  all,  day  by  day,  share  and  share  alike.  He  was 
honest,  he  was  a  master,  no  one  would  steal  from  him, 
it  was  best,  the  stuff  would  last  longest.  It  was  a 
touching  sight. 

Still  the  old  eagerness  betrayed  itself  in  Israel's 
weary  manner  as  often  as  the  door  opened  and  fresh 
prisoners  arrived.  Once  it  happened  that  before  he 
uttered  his  usual  question  he  saw  that  the  newcomers 
were  from  Tetuan,  and  then  his  restlessness  was  fever- 
ish.   "  When — were  you — have  you  been  of  late " 

he  stammered,  and  seemed  unable  to  go  farther. 

But  the  Tetawanis  knew  and  understood  him. 
"  No,"  said  one  in  answer  to  the  unspoken  question; 
"  Nor  I,"  said  another;  "  Nor  I,"  said  a  third;  "  Nor 
I  neither,"  said  a  fourth,  as  Israel's  rapid  eyes  passed 
down  the  line  of  thorn. 

He  turned  away  without  a  word  more,  sat  down  by 
the  pillar  and  looked  vacantly  before  him  while  the 
new  prisoners  told  their  story.  Ben  Aboo  was  a  vil- 
lain. The  people  of  Tetuan  had  found  him  out.  His 
wife  \v;is  ;i  harlot  whose  heart  was  a  deep  pit.  Be- 
tween them  they  were  demoralising  the  entire  basha- 
lic.  The  (own  was  worse  than  Sodom.  Hardly  a 
child  in  the  streets  was  safe,  and  no  woman,  whether 
wife  or  daughter,  whom  God  had  made  comely,  dare 
show  herself  on  the  roofs.  Their  own  women  had 
been  earried  oil'  to  the  palace  at  the  Kasbah.  That 
was  why  they  themselves  were  there  in  prison. 


ISRAEL  IN  PRISON.  269 

This  was  about  a  month  after  the  coming  of  Israel 
to  Shawan.  Then  his  reason  began  to  unsettle.  It 
was  pitiful  to  see  that  he  was  conscious  of  the  change 
that  was  befalling  him.  He  wrestled  with  madness 
with  all  the  strength  of  a  strong  man.  If  it  should 
fall  upon  him,  where  then  would  be  his  hope  and  out- 
look? His  day  would  be  done,  his  night  would  be 
closed  in,  he  would  be  no  more  than  a  helpless  log, 
rolling  in  an  ice-bound  sea,  and  when  the  thaw  came 
— if  it  ever  came — he  would  be  only  a  broken,  rudder- 
less, sailless  wreck.  Sometimes  he  would  swear  at 
nothing  and  fling  out  his  arms  wildly,  and  then  with 
a  look  of  shame  hang  down  his  head  and  mutter, 
"  No,  no,  Israel;  no,  no,  no! " 

Other  prisoners  arrived  from  Tetuan,  and  all  told 
the  same  story.  Israel  listened  to  them  with  a  stupid 
look,  seeming  hardly  to  hear  the  tale  they  told  him. 
But  one  morning,  as  life  began  again  for  the  day  in 
that  slimy  eddy  of  life's  ocean,  every  one  became  aware 
that  an  awful  change  had  come  to  pass.  Israel's  face 
had  been  worn  and  tired  before,  but  now  it  looked 
very  old  and  faded.  His  black  hair  had  been  sprinkled 
with  grey,  and  now  it  was  white;  and  white  also  was 
his  dark  beard,  which  had  grown  long  and  ragged. 
But  his  eye  glistened,  and  his  teeth  were  aglitter  in 
his  open  mouth.  He  was  laughing  at  everything,  yet 
not  wildly,  not  recklessly,  not  without  meaning  or 
intention,  but  with  the  cheer  of  a  happy  and  con- 
tented man. 

Israel  was  mad,  and  his  madness  was  a  moving 
thing  to  look  upon.  He  thought  he  was  back  at  home 
and  a  rich  man  still,  as  he  had  been  in  earlier  days, 
but  a  generous  man  also,  as  he  was  in  later  ones. 
With  liberal  hand  he  was  dispensing  his  charities. 


270  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  Take  what  you  need;  eat,  drink,  do  not  stint; 
there  is  more  where  this  has  come  from;  it  is  not 
mine;  God  has  lent  it  me  for  the  good  of  all." 

With  such  words,  graciously  spoken,  he  served  out 
the  provisions  according  to  his  habit,  and  only  de- 
parted from  his  daily  custom  in  piling  the  measures 
higher,  and  in  saluting  the  people  by  titles — Sid,  Sidi, 
Mulai,  and  the  like — in  degree  as  their  clothes  were 
poor  and  ragged.  It  was  a  mad  heart  that  spoke  so, 
but  also  it  was  a  big  one. 

From  that  time  forward  he  looked  upon  the  pris- 
oners as  his  guests,  and  when  fresh  prisoners  came 
to  the  prison  he  always  welcomed  them  as  if  he  were 
host  there  and  they  were  friends  who  visited  him. 
"Welcome!"  he  would  say;  "you  are  very  welcome. 
The  place  is  your  own.  Take  all.  What  you  don't 
see,  believe  we  have  not  got  it.  A  thousand  thousand 
welcomes  home! "     It  was  grim  and  painful  irony. 

Israel's  comrades  began  to  lose  sense  of  their  own 
suffering  in  observing  the  depth  of  his,  and  they  laid 
their  heads  together  to  discover  the  cause  of  his  mad- 
ness. The  most  part  of  them  concluded  that  he  was 
repining  for  the  loss  of  his  former  state.  And  when 
one  day  another  prisoner  came  from  Tetuan  with 
further  tales  of  the  Basha's  tyranny,  and  of  the  peo- 
ple's shame  at  thought  of  how  they  had  dealt  by 
Israel,  the  prisoners  led  the  man  back  to  where  Israel 
was  standing  in  the  accustomed  act  of  dispensing 
bounty,  that  he  might  tell  his  story  into  the  right- 
ful ear-. 

"  They're  always  crying  for  you,"  said  the  Teta- 
wani;  "'Israel  ben  Olicl!  Israel  ben  Oliel!'  that's 
what  you  hear  in  the  mosques  and  the  streets  every- 
where.   '  Shame  on  us  for  casting  him  out,  shame  on 


ISRAEL  IN  PRISON.  271 

us!  He  was  our  father!'  Jews  and  Muslimeen, 
they're  all  saying  so." 

It  was  useless.  The  glad  tidings  could  not  find 
their  way.  That  black  page  of  Israel's  life  which  told 
of  the  people's  ingratitude  was  sealed  in  the  book  of 
memory.  Israel  laughed.  What  could  his  good  friend 
mean?  Behold!  was  he  not  rich?  Had  he  not  troops 
of  comrades  and  guests  about  him? 

The  prisoners  turned  aside,  baffled  and  done.  At 
length  one  man — it  was  no  other  than  'Larby  the 
wastrel — drew  some  of  them  apart  and  said,  "  You 
are  all  wrong.  It's  not  his  former  state  that  he's 
thinking  of.  2"  know  what  it  is — who  knows  so  well 
as  I?  Listen!  you  hear  his  laughter!  Well,  he  must 
weep,  or  he  will  be  mad  for  ever.  He  must  be  made 
to  weep.     Yes,  by  Allah!  and  I  must  do  it!  " 

That  same  night,  when  darkness  fell  over  the  dark 
place,  and  the  prisoners  tied  up  their  cotton  headker- 
chiefs  and  lay  down  to  sleep,  'Larby  sat  beside  Israel's 
place  with  sighs  and  moans  and  other  symptoms  of  a 
dejected  air. 

"  Sidi,  master,"  he  faltered,  "  I  had  a  little  brother 
once,  and  he  was  blind.  Born  blind,  Sidi,  my  own 
mother's  son.  But  you  wouldn't  think  how  happy 
he  was  for  all  that?  You  see,  Sidi,  he  never  missed 
anything,  and  so  his  little  face  was  like  laughing 
water!  By  Allah!  I  loved  that  boy  better  than  all  the 
world!  Women?  Why — well,  never  mind!  He  was 
six  and  I  was  eighteen,  and  he  used  to  ride  on  my 
back!  Black  curls  all  over,  Sidi,  and  big  white  eyes 
that  looked  at  you  for  all  they  couldn't  see.  Well,  a 
bleeder  came  from  Soos — curse  his  great-grandfather! 
Looked  at  little  Hosain — '  Scales! '  said  he — burn  his 
father!    Bleed  him  and  he'll  see!    So  they  bled  him, 


272  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  he  did  see.  By  Allah!  yes,  for  a  minute — half  a 
minute!  '  Oh,  'Larby,'  he  cried — I  was  holding  him; 
then  he — he — '  'Larby/  he  cried  faint,  like  a  lamb 
that's  lost  in  the  mountains — and  then — and  then — 
'  Oh,  oh,  'Larby,'  he  moaned.  Sidi,  Sidi,  I  paid 
that  bleeder — there  and  then — this  way!  That's  why 
I'm  here! " 

It  was  a  lie,  but  'Larby  acted  it  so  well  that  his 
voice  broke  in  his  throat,  and  great  drops  fell  from  his 
eyes  on  to  Israel's  hand. 

The  effect  on  Israel  himself  was  strange  and  even 
startling.  While  'Larby  was  speaking,  he  was  beat- 
ing his  forehead  and  mumbling:  "Where?  When? 
Naomi!  "  as  if  grappling  for  lost  treasures  in  an  ebb- 
ing sea.  And  when  'Larby  finished,  he  fell  on  him 
with  reproaches.  "  And  you  are  weeping  for  that?  " 
he  cried.  "  You  think  it  much  that  the  sweet  child 
is  dead — God  rest  him!  So  it  is  to  the  like  of  you, 
Inn  look  at  me!  " 

His  voice  betrayed  a  grim  pride  in  his  miseries. 
"  Look  at  me!  Am  I  weeping?  No;  I  would  scorn  to 
weep.  But  I  have  more  cause  a  thousandfold.  Lis- 
ten! Once  I  was  rich;  but  what  were  riches  without 
children?  Hard  bread  with  no  water  for  sop.  I  asked 
God  for  a  child.  He  gave  me  a  daughter;  but  she  was 
born  blind  and  dumb  and  deaf.  I  asked  God  to  take 
my  riches  and  give  her  hearing.  He  gave  her  hear- 
ing: hut  what  was  hearing  without  speech?  I  asked 
(<<><\  to  take  all  I  had  and  give  her  speech.  He  gave 
her  speech;  but  what  was  speech  without  sight?  I 
asked  God  to  take  my  place  from  me  and  give  her 
Bight.  Ee  gave  her  sight,  and  I  was  cast  out  of  the 
town  like  a  beggar.  What  matter?  She  had  all,  and 
I  was  forgiven.     But  when  I  was  happy,  when  I  was 


ISRAEL  IN  PRISON.  273 

content,  when  she  filled  my  heart  with  sunshine,  God 
snatched  me  away  from  her.  And  where  is  she  now? 
Yonder,  alone,  friendless,  a  child  new-born  into  the 
world,  at  the  mercy  of  liars  and  libertines.  And 
where  am  I?  Here,  like  a  beast  in  a  trap,  uttering 
abortive  groans,  toothless,  stupid,  powerless,  mad. 
No,  no,  not  mad  either!  Tell  me,  boy,  I  am  not 
mad!" 

In  the  breaking  waters  of  his  madness  he  was 
struggling  like  a  drowning  man.  "  Yet  I  do  not 
weep,"  he  cried  in  a  thick  voice.  "  God  has  a  right  to 
do  as  He  will.  He  gave  her  to  me  for  seventeen  years. 
If  she  dies  she'll  be  mine  again  soon.     Only  if  she 

lives — only  if  she  falls  into  evil  hands Tell  me, 

have  I  been  mad?  " 

He  gave  no  time  for  an  answer.  "Naomi!"  he 
cried,  and  the  name  broke  in  his  throat.  "  Where  are 
you   now?     "What   has — who   have — your   father    is 

thinking  of  you — he  is No,  I  will  not  weep. 

You  see  I  have  good  cause,  but  I  tell  you  I  will  never 
weep.     God  has  a  right — Naomi — Na " 

The  name  thickened  to  a  sob  as  he  repeated  it,  and 
then  suddenly  he  rose  and  cried  in  an  awful  voice, 
"Oh,  I'm  a  fool!  God  has  done  nothing  for  me. 
Why  should  I  do  anything  for  God?  He  has  taken 
all  I  had.  He  has  taken  my  child.  I  have  noth- 
ing more  to  give  Him  but  my  life.  Let  Him  take 
that  too.  Take  it,  I  beseech  Thee!  "  he  cried — the 
vault  of  the  prison  rang — "  Take  it,  and  set  me 
free! " 

But  at  the  next  moment  he  had  fallen  back  to  his 
place,  and  was  sobbing  like  a  little  child.  The  other 
prisoners  had  risen  in  their  amazement,  and  'Larby, 
who  was  shedding  hot  tears  over  his  cold  ones,  was 


274  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

capering  down  the  floor,  and  singing,  "  El  Arby  was  a 
black  man." 

Then  there  was  a  rattling  of  keys,  and  suddenly  a 
flood  of  light  shot  into  the  dark  place.  The  Kaid  el 
habs  was  bringing  a  courier,  who  carried  an  order  for 
Israel's  release.  Abd  er-Rahman,  the  Sultan,  was  to 
keep  the  feast  of  the  Moolood  at  Tetuan,  and  Ben 
Aboo,  to  celebrate  the  visit,  had  pardoned  Israel. 

It  was  coals  of  fire  on  Israel's  head.  "  God  is 
good,"  he  muttered.  "  I  shall  see  her  again.  Yes, 
God  has  a  right  to  do  as  He  will.  I  shall  see  her  soon. 
God  is  wise  beyond  all  wisdom.  I  must  lose  no  time. 
Jailer,  can  I  leave  the  town  to-night?  I  wish  to 
start  on  my  journey.  To-night? — yes,  to-night? 
Are  the  gates  open?  No?  You  will  open  them? 
You  are  very  good.  Everybody  is  very  good.  God  is 
good.     God  is  mighty." 

Then  half  in  shame,  and  partly  as  apology  for  his 
late  intemperate  outburst,  with  a  simpleness  that 
was  almost  childish,  he  said,  "A  man's  a  fool  when 
he  loses  his  only  child.  I  don't  mean  by  death.  Time 
heals  that.  But  the  living  child — oh, it's  an  unending 
pain!  You  would  never  think  bow  happy  we  were. 
Her  pretty  ways  were  all  my  joy.  Yes,  for  her  voice 
was  music,  and  her  breath  was  like  the  dawn.  Do  you 
know,  I  was  very  fond  of  the  little  one — I  was  quite 
miserable  if  I  lost  sight  of  her  for  an  hour.  And  then 
to  be  WTenched  away!  .  .  .  But  I  must  hasten  back. 
The  little  one  will  be  waiting.  Yes,  I  know  quite 
well  she'll  be  looking  out  from  the  door  in  the  sun- 
shine when  she  awakes  in  the  morning.  It's  always 
the  way  of  these  tender  creatures,  is  it  not?  So  we 
must  humour  them.    Yes,  yes,  that's  so,  that's  so." 

Hie  fellow-prisoners  stood  around  him,  each  in  his 


ISRAEL  IN  PRISON.  275 

night-headkerchief  knotted  under  his  chin — gaunt, 
hooded  figures,  in  the  shifting  light  of  the  jailer's 
lantern. 

"  Farewell,  brothers! "  he  cried;  and  one  by  one 
they  touched  his  hand  and  brought  it  to  their  breasts. 

"Farewell,  master!"  "Peace,  Sidi!"  "Fare- 
well!" "Peace!"    "Farewell!" 

The  light  shot  out;  the  door  clasped  back;  there 
were  footsteps  dying  away  outside;  two  loud  bangs 
as  of  a  closing  gate,  and  then  silence — empty  and 
ghostly. 

In  the  darkness  the  hooded  figures  stood  a  moment 
listening,  and  then  a  croaking,  breaking,  husky 
merry  voice  began  to  sing — 

El  Arby  was  a  black  man, 

They  called  him  "  'Larby  Kosk  ; " 

He  loved  the  wives  of  the  Kasbah, 
And  stole  slippers  in  the  mosque. 


19 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HOW  NAOMI  TUKNED  MUSLIMA. 

What  had  happened  to  Naomi  during  the  two 
months  and  a  half  while  Israel  lay  at  Shawan  is  this: 
After  the  first  agony  of  their  parting,  in  which  she 
was  driven  back  by  the  soldiers  when  she  attempted 
to  follow  them,  she  sat  down  in  a  maze  of  pain,  with- 
out any  true  perception  of  the  evil  which  had  befallen 
her,  but  with  her  father's  warning  voice  and  his  last 
words  in  her  ear:  "  Stay  here.  Never  leave  this 
place.  Whatever  they  say,  stay  here.  I  will  come 
back." 

When  she  awoke  in  the  morning,  after  a  short 
night  of  broken  sleep  and  fitful  dreams,  the  voice  and 
the  words  were  with  her  still,  and  then  she  knew  for 
the  first  time  what  the  meaning  was,  and  what  the 
penalty,  of  this  strange  and  dread  asundering.  She 
was  alone,  and,  being  alone,  she  was  helpless;  she  was 
no  better  than  a  child  without  kindred  to  look  to 
her  and  without  power  to  look  to  herself,  with  food 
and  drink  beside  her,  but  no  skill  to  make  and  take 
them. 

Thus  her  awakening  sense  was  like  that  of  a 
lamb  whose  mother  has  been  swallowed  up  in  the 
night  by  the  sand-drifts  of  the  simoom.  It  was  not 
so  much  love  as  loss.  What  to  do,  where  to  look, 
which  way  to  turn,  she  knew  no  longer,  and  could  not 
276 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIMA.  277 

think,  for  lack  of  the  hand  that  had  been  wont  to 
guide  her. 

The  neighbouring  Moors  heard  of  what  had  hap- 
pened to  Naomi,  and  some  of  the  women  among  them 
came  to  see  her.  They  were  poor  farming  people, 
oppressed  by  cruel  taxmasters;  and  the  first  things 
they  saw  were  the  cattle  and  sheep,  and  the  next 
thing  was  the  simple  girl  with  the  child-face,  who 
knew  nothing  yet  of  the  ways  wherein  a  lonely  wo- 
man must  fend  for  herself. 

"  You  cannot  live  here  alone,  my  daughter,"  they 
said;  "  you  would  perish.  Then  think  of  the  danger 
— a  child  like  you,  with  a  face  like  a  flower!  No,  no, 
you  must  come  to  us.  We  will  look  to  you  like  one 
of  our  own,  and  protect  you  from  evil  men.  And  as 
for  the  creatures " 

"  But  he  said  I  was  never  to  leave  this  place," 
said  Naomi.  "  '  Stay  here,'  he  said;  '  whatever  they 
say,  stay  here.     I  will  come  back.'  " 

The  women  protested  that  she  would  starve,  be 
stolen,  ruined  and  murdered.  It  was  in  vain.  Nao- 
mi's answer  was  always  the  same:  "He  told  me  to 
stay  here,  and  surely  I  must  do  so." 

Then  one  after  another  the  poor  folks  went  away 
in  anger.  "Tut!"  they  thought,  "what  should  we 
want  with  the  Jew  child?  Allah!  Was  there  ever 
such  a  simpleton?  The  good  creatures  going  to 
waste,  too!  And  as  for  her  father,  he'll  never  come 
back — never.     Trust  the  Basha  for  that!  " 

But  when  the  humanity  of  the  true  souls  had 
conquered  their  selfishness,  they  came  again  one  by 
one  and  vied  with  each  other  in  many  simple  offices 
— milking  and  churning,  and  baking  and  delving — in 
pity  of  the  sweet  girl  with  the  great  eyes  who  had 


278  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

been  left  to  live  alone.  And  Naomi,  seeing  her  help- 
lessness at  last,  put  out  all  her  powers  to  remedy  it, 
so  that  in  a  little  while  she  was  able  to  do  for  herself 
nearly  everything  that  her  neighbours  at  first  did  for 
her.  Then  they  would  say  among  themselves,  "  Al- 
lah! she's  not  such  a  baby  after  all;  and  if  she  wasn't 
quite  so  beautiful,  poor  child,  or  if  the  world  wasn't 
so  wicked — but  then,  God  is  great!  God  is  great!  " 

Not  at  first  had  Naomi  understood  them  when 
they  told  her  that  her  father  had  been  cast  into 
prison,  and  every  night  when  she  left  her  lamp  alight 
by  the  little  skin-covered  window  that  was  half-hid- 
den under  the  dropping  eaves,  and  every  morning 
when  she  opened  her  door  to  the  radiance  of  the  sun 
she  had  whispered  to  herself  and  said,  "  He  will  come 
back,  Naomi;  only  wait,  only  wait;  maybe  it  will  be 
to-night,  maybe  it  will  be  to-day;  you  will  see,  you 
will  see." 

But  after  the  awful  thought  of  what  prison  was 
had  fully  dawned  upon  her  at  last,  by  help  of  what 
she  saw  and  heard  of  other  men  who  had  been  there, 
her  old  content  in  her  father's  command  that  she 
should  never  leave  that  place  was  shaken  and  broken 
by  a  desire  to  go  to  him. 

"  Who's  to  feed  him,  poor  soul?  He  will  be  fam- 
ishing. If  the  Kaid  finds  him  in  bread,  it  will  only 
be  so  much  more  added  to  his  ransom.  That  will 
come  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end,  or  he'll  die  in 
prison." 

Thus  she  had  heard  the  gossips  talk  among  them- 
selves when  they  thought  she  did  not  listen.  And 
though  it  was  little  she  understood  of  Kaids  and  ran- 
soms, she  was  quick  to  see  the  nature  of  her  father's 
peril,  and  at  length  she  concluded  that,  in  spite  of 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIMA.  279 

his  injunction,  go  to  him  she  should  and  must.  With 
that  resolve,  her  mind,  which  had  been  the  mind  of 
a  child,  seemed  to  spring  up  instantly  and  become  the 
mind  of  a  woman,  and  her  heart,  that  had  been  timid, 
suddenly  grew  brave,  for  pity  and  love  were  born 
in  it.  "  He  must  be  starving  in  prison,"  she  thought, 
"  and  I  will  take  him  food." 

When  her  neighbours  heard  of  her  intention  they 
lifted  their  hands  in  consternation  and  horror. 
"  God  be  gracious  to  my  father!  "  they  cried.  "  Sha- 
wan?  You?  Alone?  Child,  you'll  be  lost,  lost — 
worse,  a  thousand  times  worse!  Shoof!  you're  only 
a  baby  still." 

But  their  protests  availed  as  little  to  keep  Naomi 
at  her  home  now  as  their  importunities  had  done 
to  induce  her  to  leave  it.  "  He  must  be  starving  in 
prison,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will  take  him  food." 

Her  neighbours  left  her  to  her  stubborn  purpose. 
"  Allah!  "  they  said,  "  who  would  have  believed  it, 
that  the  little  pink-and-white  face  had  such  a  will  of 
her  own!  " 

Without  more  ado  Naomi  set  herself  to  prepare 
for  her  journey.  She  saved  up  thirty  eggs,  and  baked 
as  many  of  the  round  flat  cakes  of  the  country;  also 
she  churned  some  butter  in  the  simple  way  which  the 
women  had  taught  her,  and  put  the  milk  that  was 
left  in  a  goat's-skin.  In  three  days  she  was  ready, 
and  then  she  packed  her  provisions  in  the  leaf  pan- 
niers of  a  mule  which  one  of  the  neighbours  had  lent 
to  her,  and  got  up  before  them  on  the  front  of  the 
burda,  after  the  manner  of  the  wives  whom  she  had 
seen  going  past  to  market. 

When  she  was  about  to  start  her  gossips  came 
again,  in  pity  of  her  wild  errand,  to  bid  her  farewell 


280  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

and  to  see  the  last  of  her.  "  Keep  to  the  track  as 
far  as  Tetuan,"  they  said  to  her,  "  and  then  ask  for 
the  road  to  Shawan."  One  old  creature  threw  a 
blanket  over  her  head  in  such  a  way  that  it  might 
cover  her  face.  "Faces  like  yours  are  not  for  the 
daylight,"  the  old  body  whispered,  and  then  Naomi 
set  i'urward  on  her  journey.  The  women  watched 
her  while  she  mounted  the  hill  that  goes  up  to  the 
fondak,  and  then  sinks  out  of  sight  beyond  it.  "  Poor 
mad  little  fool,"  they  whimpered;  "that's  the  end 
of  her!  She'll  never  come  back.  Too  many  men 
about  for  that.  And  now,"  they  said,  facing  each 
other  with  looks  of  suspicion  and  envy,  "  what  of 
the  creatures?  " 

While  the  good  souls  were  dividing  her  possessions 
among  them,  Naomi  was  awakening  to  some  vague 
sense  of  her  difficulties  and  dangers.  She  had 
thought  it  would  be  easy  to  ask  her  way,  but  now 
that  she  had  need  to  do  so  she  was  afraid  to  speak. 
The  sight  of  a  strange  face  alarmed  her,  and  she  was 
terrified  when  she  met  a  company  of  wandering  Arabs 
changing  pasture,  with  the  young  women  and  chil- 
dren on  camels,  the  old  women  trudging  on  foot  under 
loads  of  cans  and  kettles,  the  boys  driving  the  herds, 
and  the  men,  armed  with  long  flintlocks,  riding  their 
prancing  barb.-.  Her  poor  little  mule  came  to  a 
stand  in  the  midsl  of  this  cavalcade,  and  she  was  too 
bewildered  to  urge  it  on.  Also  her  fear,  which  had 
first  caused  her  to  cover  her  face  with  the  blanket 
that  her  neighbour  had  given  her,  now  made  her  for- 
te do  so,  and  the  men  as  they  passed  her  peered 
close  into  her  eyes.  Such  glances  made  her  blood 
to  tingle.  They  seared  her  very  soul,  and  she  began 
to  know  the  meaning  of  shame. 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIMA.  281 

Nevertheless,  she  tried  to  keep  up  a  brave  heart 
and  to  push  forward.  "  He  is  starving  in  prison," 
she  told  herself;  "  I  must  lose  no  time."  It  was  a 
weary  journey.  Everything  was  new  to  her,  and 
nearly  everything  was  terrible.  She  was  even  per- 
plexed to  see  that  however  far  she  travelled  she  came 
upon  men  and  women  and  children.  It  was  so 
strange  that  all  the  world  was  peopled.  Yet  some- 
times she  wished  there  were  more  people  everywhere. 
That  was  when  she  was  crossing  a  barren  waste  with 
no  house  in  sight  and  never  a  sign  of  human  life  on 
any  side.  But  oftener  she  wished  that  the  people 
were  not  so  many;  and  that  was  when  the  children 
mocked  at  her  mule,  or  the  women  jeered  at  her  as 
if  she  must  needs  be  a  base  person  because  she  was 
alone,  or  the  men  laughed  and  leered  into  her  un- 
covered face. 

Before  she  had  gone  many  miles  her  heart  began 
to  fail.  Everything  was  unlike  what  she  expected. 
She  had  thought  the  world  so  good  that  she  had 
but  to  say  to  any  that  asked  her  of  her  errand, 
"  My  father  is  in  prison,  they  say  that  he  is  starving; 
I  am  taking  him  food,"  and  every  one  would  help 
her  forward.  Though  she  had  never  put  it  to  her- 
self so,  yet  she  had  reckoned  in  this  way  in  spite  of 
the  warnings  of  her  neighbours.  But  no  one  was 
helping  her  forward;  few  were  looking  on  her  with 
goodwill,  and  fewer  still  with  pity  and  cheer. 

The  jogging  of  the  mule,  a  most  bony  and  stiff- 
limbed  beast,  had  flattened  the  panniers  that  hung 
by  its  side,  and  made  the  round  cakes  of  bread  to 
protrude  from  the  open  mouth  of  one  of  them.  See- 
ing this,  a  line  of  market-women  going  by,  with  bags 
of  charcoal  on  their  backs,  snatched  a  cake  each  as 


282  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

they  passed  and  munched  them  and  laughed.  Naomi 
tried  to  protest.     "  The  bread  is  for  my  father,"  she 

faltered;  "he  is  in  prison;  they  say  he "     But 

the  expostulation  that  began  thus  timidly  broke  down 
of  itself,  for  the  women  laughed  again  out  of  their 
mouths  choked  with  the  bread,  and  in  another  mo- 
ment they  were  gone. 

Naomi's  spirit  was  crushed,  but  she  tried  to  keep 
up  a  brave  front  still.  To  speak  of  her  father  again 
would  be  to  shame  him.  The  poor  little  illusions  of 
the  sweetness  and  goodness  of  the  world  which,  in 
spite  of  vague  recollections  of  Tetuan,  she  had  strug- 
gled, since  the  coming  of  her  sight,  to  build  up  in 
her  fresh  young  soul,  were  now  tumbling  to  pieces. 
Alter  all,  the  world  was  very  cruel.  It  was  the 
same  as  if  an  angel  out  of  the  clouds  had  fallen  on 
to  the  earth  and  found  her  feet  mired  with  clay. 

Six  hours  after  she  had  set  out  from  her  home 
Naomi  came  to  a  fondak  which  stood  in  those  days 
outside  the  walls  of  Tetuan  on  the  south-western 
side.  The  darkness  had  closed  in  by  this  time,  and 
she  must  needs  rest  there  for  the  night,  but  never 
until  then  had  she  reflected  that  for  such  accommoda- 
tion she  would  need  money.  Only  a  few  coppers  were 
necessary,  only  twenty  moozoonahs,  that  she  might 
lie  in  the  shelter  and  safety  of  one  of  the  pens  that 
were  built  for  the  sleep  of  human  creatures,  and  that 
her  mule  might  be  tethered  and  fed  on  the  manure 
heap  that  constituted  the  square  space  within.  At 
last  she  bethought  her  qf  her  eggs,  and,  though  it 
went  to  her  heart  to  use  for  herself  what  was  meant 
for  her  father,  she  parted  with  twelve  of  them,  and 
some  cakes  of  the  bread  besides,  that  she  might  be 
allowed  to  pass  the  gate,  telling  herself  repeatedly, 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIMA.  283 

with  big  throbs  of  remorse  between  her  protestations, 
that  unless  she  did  so  her  father  might  never  get 
anything  at  all. 

The  fondak  was  a  miserable  place,  full  of  farm- 
ing people  who  were  to  go  on  to  market  at  Tetuan 
in  the  morning,  of  many  animals  of  burden,  and  of 
countless  dogs.  It  was  the  eve  of  the  month  of 
Babya  el-ooal,  and  between  the  twilight  and  the 
coming  of  night  certain  of  the  men  watched  for  the 
new  moon,  and  when  its  thin  bow  appeared  in  the 
sky  they  signalled  its  advent  after  their  usual  manner 
by  firing  their  flintlocks  into  the  air,  while  their 
women,  who  were  squatting  around,  kept  up  a  cooing 
chorus.  Then  came  eating  and  drinking,  and  laugh- 
ing and  singing,  and  playing  the  ginbri,  and  feats  of 
juggling,  as  well  as  snarling  and  quarrelling  and 
fighting,  and  also  peacemaking  by  means  of  a  cudgel 
wielded  by  the  keeper  of  the  fondak.  With  such 
exercises  the  night  passed  into  morning. 

Naomi  was  sick.  Her  head  ached.  The  smell  of 
rotten  fish,  the  stench  of  the  manure  heap,  the  bray- 
ing of  the  donkeys,  the  barking  of  the  dogs,  the 
grunt  of  the  camels,  and  the  tumult  of  human  voices 
made  her  light-headed.  She  could  neither  eat  nor 
sleep.  Almost  as  soon  as  it  was  light  she  was  up  and 
out  on  her  way.  "  I  must  lose  no  time,"  she  thought, 
trying  not  to  realise  that  the  blue  sky  was  spinning 
round  her,  that  noises  were  ringing  in  her  head,  and 
that  her  poor  little  heart,  which  had  been  so  stout 
only  yesterday,  was  sinking  very  low. 

"  He  must  be  starving,"  she  told  herself  again, 
and  that  helped  her  to  forget  her  own  troubles  and  to 
struggle  on.  But  oh,  if  the  world  were  only  not  so 
cruel,  oh,  if  there  were  any  one  to  give  her  a  word 


284  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

of  cheer,  nay,  a  glance  of  pity!  But  nobody  had 
looked  at  her  except  the  women  who  stole  her  bread 
and  the  men  who  shamed  her  with  their  wicked  eyes. 

That  one  day's  experience  did  more  than  all  her 
life  before  it  to  fill  her  with  the  bitter  fruit  of  the 
tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil.  Her  illu- 
sions fell  away  from  her,  and  her  sweet  childish  faith 
was  broken  down.  She  saw  herself  as  she  was:  a 
simple  girl,  a  child  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world, 
going  alone  on  a  long  journey  unknown  to  her,  think- 
ing to  succour  her  father  in  prison,  and  carrying  a 
handful  of  eggs  and  a  few  poor  cakes  of  bread.  When 
at  length  the  scales  fell  from  the  eyes  of  her  mind, 
and  as  she  trudged  along  on  her  bony  mule,  afraid 
to  ask  her  way,  she  saw  herself,  with  all  her  fine  pur- 
poses shrivelled  up,  do  what  she  would  to  be  brave, 
she  could  not  help  but  cry.  It  was  all  so  vain,  so 
foolish;  she  was  such  a  weak  little  thing.  Her  fa- 
ther knew  this,  and  that  was  why  he  told  her  to 
stay  where  he  left  her.  What  if  he  came  home 
while  she  was  absent!     Should  she  go  back? 

She  had  almost  resolved  to  return,  struggle  as  she 
might  to  push  forward,  when  going  close  under  the 
town  walls,  near  to  the  very  gate,  the  Bab  Toot, 
whereat  she  had  been  cast  out  with  her  father,  re- 
membering this  scene  of  their  abasement  with  a  new 
sense  of  its  cruelty  and  shame  born  of  her  own  sim- 
ple troubles,  she  lit  upon  a  woman  who  was  com- 
ing out. 

It  was  Habeebah.  She  was  now  the  slave  of  Ben 
Aboo,  and  was  just  then  stealing  away  from  the  Kas- 
ha h  in  the  early  morning  that  she  might  go  in  search 
of  Xaomi,  whose  whereabouts  and  condition  she  had 
lately  learned. 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIMA.  285 

The  two  might  have  passed  unknown,  for  Habee- 
bah  was  veiled,  but  that  Naomi  had  forgotten  her 
blanket  and  was  uncovered.  In  another  moment  the 
poor  frightened  girl,  with  all  her  brave  bearing  gone, 
was  weeping  on  the  black  woman's  breast. 

"  Whither  are  you  going?  "  said  Habeebah. 

"  To  my  father,"  Naomi  began.  "  He  is  in  prison; 
they  say  he  is  starving;  I  was  taking  food  to  him, 
but  I  am  lost,  I  don't  know  my  way,  and  besides " 

"  The  very  thing!  "  cried  Habeebah. 

Habeebah  had  her  own  little  scheme.  It  was 
meant  to  win  emancipation  at  the  hands  of  her  mas- 
ter, and  paradise  for  her  soul  when  she  died.  Naomi, 
who  was  a  Jewess,  was  to  turn  Muslima.  That  was 
all.  Then  her  troubles  would  end,  and  wondrous 
fortune  would  descend  upon  her,  and  her  father  who 
was  in  prison  would  be  set  free. 

Now,  religion  was  nothing  to  Naomi;  she  hardly 
understood  what  it  meant.  The  differences  of  faith 
were  less  than  nothing,  but  her  father  was  everything, 
and  so  she  clutched  at  Habeebah's  bold  promises  like 
a  drowning  soul  at  the  froth  of  a  breaker. 

"  My  father  will  be  let  out  of  prison?  You  are 
sure — quite  sure?  "  she  asked. 

"  Quite  sure,"  answered  Habeebah  stoutly. 

Naomi's  hopes  of  ever  reaching  her  father  were 
now  faint,  and  her  poor  little  stock  of  eggs  and  bread 
looked  like  folly  to  her  new-born  worldliness. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said.     "  I  will  turn  Muslima." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  she  was  riding  by  Ha- 
beebah's side  into  the  town,  through  the  Bab  Toot 
across  the  Feddan,  and  up  to  the  courtyard  of  the 
Kasbah,  which  had  witnessed  the  beginning  of  her 
own  and  her  father's  degradation.     Then,  tethering 


286  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

the  beast  in  the  open  stables  there,  Habeebah  took 
Naomi  into  her  own  little  room  and  left  her  alone 
for  some  minutes,  while  she  hastened  to  Ben  Aboo 
in  secret  with  her  wondrous  news. 

"'  Lord  Basha,"  she  said,  "  the  beautiful  Jewess 
Naomi,  the  daughter  of  Israel  ben  Oliel,  will  turn 
Muslima." 

"  Where  is  she?"  said  Ben  Aboo. 

"  Sidi,"  said  Habeebah,  "  I  have  promised  that 
you  will  liberate  her  father." 

"  Fetch  her,"  said  Ben  Aboo,  "  and  it  shall  be 
done." 

But  meantime  Fatimah  had  gone  to  Habeebah's 
room  and  found  Naomi  there,  and  heard  of  the  vain 
hope  which  had  brought  her. 

"  My  sweet  jewel  of  gold  and  silver,"  the  black 
woman  cried,  "  you  don't  know  what  you  are  doing. 
Turn  Muslima,  and  you  will  be  parted  from  your 
father  for  ever.  He  is  a  Jew,  and  will  have  no  right 
to  you  any  more.  You  will  never,  never  see  him 
again.     He  will  be  lost  to  you — lost — I  say — lost! '; 

Habeebah,  with  two  of  the  guard,  came  back  to 
take  Naomi  to  Ben  Aboo.  The  poor  girl  was  be- 
wildered. She  had  seen  nothing  but  her  father  in 
hi  ti  mah's  protest,  just  as  she  had  seen  nothing  but 
her  father  in  Habeebah's  promises.  She  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  she  was  such  a  poor  weak  little 
thing,  and  there  was  no  strong  hand  to  guide  her. 

They  led  her  through  dark  passages  to  an  open 
place  which  she  thought  she  had  seen  before.  It  was 
a  great  patio,  paved  and  walled  with  tiles.  Men  were 
standing  together  there  in  red  peaked  caps  and  flow- 
ing white  kaftans.  And  before  them  all  was  one  old 
man  in  garments  that  were  of  the  colour  of  the  after- 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIMA.  287 

noon  sun,  with  sleeves  like  the  mouths  of  bells,  a 
silver  knife  at  his  waistband,  and  little  leather  bags, 
hung  by  yellow  cords,  about  his  neck.  Beside  this 
man  there  was  a  woman  of  a  laughing  cruel  face,  and 
she  herself,  Naomi,  stood  in  the  midst,  with  every 
eye  upon  her.     Where  had  she  seen  all  this  before? 

Ben  Aboo  had  often  bethought  him  of  the  beau- 
tiful girl  since  he  committed  her  father  to  prison. 
He  cherished  schemes  concerning  her  which  he  did 
not  share  with  his  wife  Katrina.  But  he  had  hith- 
erto been  withheld  by  two  considerations:  the  first 
being  that  he  was  beset  with  difficulties  arising  out 
of  the  demands  of  the  Sultan  for  more  money  than 
he  could  find,  and  the  next  that  he  foresaw  the  neces- 
sity that  might  perchance  arise  of  recalling  Israel  to 
his  post.  Out  of  these  grave  bedevilments  he  had 
extricated  himself  at  length  by  imposing  dues  on 
certain  tribes  of  Eeefians,  who  had  never  yet  ac- 
knowledged the  Sultan's  authority,  and  by  calling 
on  the  Sultan's  army  to  enforce  them.  The  Sultan 
had  come  in  answer  to  his  summons,  the  Reefians  had 
been  routed,  their  villages  burnt,  and  that  morning 
at  daybreak  he  had  received  a  message  saying  that 
Abd  er-Eahman  intended  to  keep  the  feast  of  the 
Moolood  at  Tetuan.  So  this  capture  of  Naomi  was 
the  luckiest  chance  that  could  have  befallen  him  at 
such  a  moment.  She  should  witness  to  the  Prophet; 
her  father,  the  Jew,  would  thereby  lose  his  rights 
in  her;  and  he  himself,  as  her  sole  guardian,  would 
present  her  as  a  peace-offering  to  the  Sultan  on  cross- 
ing the  boundary  of  his  bashalic. 

Such  was  the  new  plan  which  Ben  Aboo  straight- 
way conceived  at  hearing  the  news  of  Habeebah,  and 
in  another  moment  he  had  propounded  it  to  Katrina. 


288  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

But  when  Naomi  came  into  the  patio,  looking  so  soft, 
so  timid,  so  tired,  yet  so  beautiful,  so  unlike  his  own 
painted  beauties,  with  the  light  of  the  dawn  on  her 
open  face,  with  her  clear  eyes  and  the  sweet  mouth 
of  a  child,  his  evil  passions  had  all  they  could  do  not 
to  go  back  to  his  former  scheme. 

"  So  you  wish  to  turn  Muslima?  "  he  said. 

Naomi  gave  one  dazed  look  around,  and  then 
cried  in  a  voice  of  fear,  "  No,  no,  no! '' 

Ben  Aboo  glanced  at  Habeebah,  and  Habeebah 
fell  upon  Naomi  with  protests  and  remonstrances. 
"  She  said  so,"  Habeebah  cried.  "  '  I  will  turn  Mus- 
lima,' she  said.     Yes,  Sidi,  she  said  so,  I  swear  it! '; 

"Did  you  say  so?"  asked  Ben  Aboo. 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi  faintly. 

"  Then,  by  Allah,  there  can  be  no  going  back 
now,"  said  Ben  Aboo;  and  he  told  her  what  was  the 
penalty  of  apostasy.  It  was  death.  She  must  choose 
between  them. 

Naomi  began  to  cry,  and  Ben  Aboo  to  laugh  at 
her,  and  Habeebah  to  plead  with  her.  Still  she  saw 
one  thing  only.    "  But  what  of  my  father?  "  she  said. 

"  He  shall  be  liberated,"  said  Ben  Aboo. 

"  But  shall  I  see  him  again?  Shall  I  go  back  to 
him?  "  said  Naomi. 

"  The  girl  is  a  simpleton!  "  said  Katrina. 

"  She  is  only  a  child,"  said  Ben  Aboo,  and  with 
one  glance  more  at  her  flower-like  face,  he  committed 
her  for  three  days  to  the  apartments  of  his  women. 

These  apartments  consisted  of  a  garden  over- 
grown by  straggling  weeds,  with  a  fountain  of  muddy 
water  in  the  middle,  an  oblong  room  that  was  stifling 
from  many  perfumes,  and  certain  smaller  chambers. 
The  garden  was  inhabited  by  a  gazelle,  whose  great 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIMA.  289 

startled  eyes  looked  out  through  the  long  grass;  and 
the  oblong  room  by  a  number  of  women  of  varying 
ages,  among  whom  were  a  matronly  Mooress,  called 
Tarha,  in  a  scarlet  head-dress,  and  with  a  string  of 
great  keys  swung  from  shoulder  to  waist;  a  Circassian, 
called  Hoolia,  in  a  gorgeous  rida  of  red  silk  and  gold 
brocade;  a  Frenchwoman,  called  Josephine,  with  em- 
broidered red  slippers  and  black  stockings;  and  a 
Jewess,  called  Sol,  with  a  band  of  silk  handkerchiefs 
tied  round  her  forehead  above  her  coal-black  curls, 
with  her  ringers  pricked  out  with  henna  and  her  eyes 
darkened  with  kohl. 

Such  were  Ben  Aboo's  wives  and  concubines  and 
captives,  whom  he  had  not  divorced  according  to  his 
promise;  and  when  Naomi  came  among  them  they  did 
their  duty  by  their  master  faithfully.  Being  trapped 
themselves,  they  tried  to  entrap  Naomi  also.  They 
overwhelmed  her  with  caresses,  they  went  into  ecsta- 
sies over  her  beauty,  and  caused  the  future  which 
awaited  her  to  shine  before  her  eyes.  She  would  have 
a  noble  husband,  magnificent  dresses,  a  brilliant  pal- 
ace, and  the  world  would  be  at  her  feet.  "  And  what's 
the  difference  between  Moosa  and  Mohammed?"  said 
Sol;  "look  at  me!"  "Tut!"  said  Josephine, 
"  there's  nothing  to  choose  between  them."  "  For  my 
part,"  said  Tarha,  "  I  don't  see  what  it  matters  to  us; 
they  say  Paradise  is  for  the  men! "  "And  think  of 
the  jewels,  and  the  earrings  as  big  as  a  bracelet,"  said 
Hoolia,  "  instead  of  this;  "  and  she  drew  away  between 
her  thumb  and  first  finger  the  blanket  which  Naomi's 
neighbour  had  given  to  her. 

It  was  all  to  no  purpose.  "  But  what  of  my 
father?  "  Naomi  asked  again  and  again. 

The  women  lost  patience  at  her  simplicity,  gave 


290  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

up  their  solicitations,  ignored  her,  and  busied  them- 
selves with  their  own  affairs.  "  Tut !  "  they  said, 
"  why  should  we  want  her  to  be  made  a  wife  of  the 
Sultan?  She  would  only  walk  over  us  like  dirt  when- 
ever she  came  to  Tetuan." 

Then,  sitting  alone  in  their  midst,  listening  to 
their  talk,  their  tales,  their  jests,  and  their  laughter, 
the  unseen  mantle  fell  upon  Naomi  at  last,  which 
made  her  a  woman  who  had  hitherto  been  a  child.  In 
this  hothouse  of  sickly  odours  these  women  lived  to- 
gether, having  no  occupation  but  that  of  eating  and 
drinking  and  sleeping,  no  education  but  devising 
new  means  of  pleasing  the  lust  of  their  husband's  eye, 
no  delight  but  that  of  supplanting  one  another  in  his 
love,  no  passion  but  jealousy,  no  diversion  but  sport- 
ing on  the  roofs,  no  end  but  death  and  the  Kabar. 

Seeing  the  uselessness  of  the  siege,  Ben  Aboo 
transferred  Naomi  to  the  prison,  and  set  Habeebah  to 
guard  her.  The  black  woman  was  in  terror  at  the 
turn  that  events  had  taken.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
now  but  to  go  on,  so  she  importuned  Naomi  with 
prayers.  How  could  she  be  so  hard-hearted?  Could 
she  keep  her  father  famishing  in  prison  when  one 
word  out  of  her  lips  would  liberate  him?  Naomi  had 
no  answer  but  her  tears.  She  remembered  the  hareem, 
and  cried. 

Then  Ben  Aboo  thought  of  a  daring  plan.  He 
called  the  Grand  Rabbi,  and  commanded  him  to  go  to 
Naomi  and  convert  her  to  Islam.  The  Rabbi  obeyed 
with  trembling.  After  all,  it  was  the  same  God  that 
both  peoples  worshipped,  only  the  Moors  called  Him 
Allah  and  the  Jews  Jehovah.  Naomi  knew  little  of 
either.  It  was  not  of  God  that  she  was  thinking:  it 
was  only  of  her  father.     She  was  too  innocent  to  see 


HOW  NAOMI  TURNED  MUSLIM  A.  291 

the  trick,  but  the  Rabbi  failed.  He  kissed  her,  and 
went  away  wiping  his  eyes. 

Rumour  of  Naomi's  plight  had  passed  through 
the  town,  and  one  night  a  number  of  Moors  came 
secretly  to  a  lane  at  the  back  of  the  Kasbah,  where  a 
narrow  window  opened  into  her  cell.  They  told  her 
in  whispers  that  what  she  held  as  tragical  was  a  very 
simple  matter.  "  Turn  Muslima,"  they  pleaded, 
"  and  save  yourself.  You  are  too  young  to  die.  Re- 
sign yourself,  for  God's  sake."  But  no  answer  came 
back  to  them  where  they  were  gathered  in  the  dark- 
ness, save  low  sobs  from  inside  the  wall. 

At  last  Ben  Aboo  made  two  announcements. 
The  first,  a  public  one,  was  that  Abd  er-Rahman 
would  reach  Tetuan  within  two  days,  on  the  opening 
of  the  feast  of  the  Moolood,  and  the  other,  a  private 
one,  that  if  Naomi  had  not  said  the  Kelmah  by  first 
prayers  the  following  morning  she  should  die  and 
her  father  be  cut  off  as  the  penalty  of  her  apostasy. 

That  night  the  place  under  the  narrow  window 
in  the  dark  lane  was  occupied  by  a  group  of  Jews. 
"  Sister,"  they  whispered,  "  sister  of  our  people,  lis- 
ten. The  Basha  is  a  hard  man.  This  day  he  has 
robbed  us  of  all  we  had  that  he  may  pay  for  the  Sul- 
tan's visit.  Listen!  We  have  heard  something. 
We  want  Israel  ben  Oliel  back  among  us.  He  was 
our  father,  he  was  our  brother.  Save  his  life  for  the 
sake  of  our  children,  for  the  Basha  has  taken  their 
bread.  Save  him,  sister,  we  beg,  we  entreat,  we 
pray." 

Naomi  broke  down  at  last.     Next  morning  at 

dawn,  kneeling  among  men  in  the  Grand  Mosque  in 

the  Metamar,  she  repeated  the  Word  after  the  Iman: 

"  I  testify  that  there  is  no  God  but  God,  and  that  our 
20 


292  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Lord  Mohammed  is  the  messenger  of  God;  I  am  truly 
resigned." 

Then  she  was  taken  back  to  the  women's  apart- 
ments, and  clad  gorgeously.  Her  child-face  was  wet 
with  tears.  She  was  only  a  poor  weak  little  thing, 
she  knew  nothing  of  religion,  she  loved  her  father 
better  than  God,  and  all  the  world  was  against  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


Israel's  return  from  prison. 


Such  was  the  method  of  Israel's  release.  But, 
knowing  nothing  of  the  price  which  had  been  paid 
for  it,  he  was  filled  with  an  immense  joy.  Nay,  his 
happiness  was  quite  childish,  so  suddenly  had  the 
darkness  which  hung  over  his  life  been  lifted  away. 
Any  one  who  had  seen  him  in  prison  would  have  been 
puzzled  by  the  change  as  he  came  away  from  it.  He 
laughed  with  the  courier  who  walked  with  him  to  the 
town  gate,  and  jested  with  the  gate  porter  as  with  an 
old  acquaintance.  His  voice  was  merry,  his  eye 
gleamed  in  the  rays  of  the  lantern,  his  face  was 
flushed,  and  his  step  was  light.  "  Afraid  to  travel 
in  the  night?  No,  no,  I'll  meet  nothing  worse  than 
myself.  Others  may  who  meet  me?  Ha,  ha!  Per- 
haps so,  perhaps  so! ':  "  No  evil  with  you,  brother?  " 
"  No  evil,  praise  be  God."  "  Well,  peace  be  to  you! '; 
"  On  you  be  peace!  "  "  May  your  morning  be  blessed! 
Good-night!''  "Good-night!"  Then  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand  he  was  gone  into  the  darkness. 

It  was  a  wonderful  night.  The  moon,  which  was 
in  its  first  quarter,  was  still  low  in  the  east,  but  the 
stars  were  thick  overhead,  making  a  silvery  dome  that 
almost  obliterated  the  blue.  Rivers  were  rumbling 
on  the  hillside,  an  owl  was  hooting  in  the  distance, 
kine  that  could  not  be  seen  were  chewing  audibly 

293 


294  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

near  at  hand,  and  sheep  like  patches  of  white  in  the 
gloom  were  scuttling  through  the  grass  before  Israel's 
footsteps.  Israel  walked  quickly,  tracing  his  course 
between  the  two  arms  of  the  Jebel  Sheshawan,  whose 
summits  were  visible  against  the  sky.  The  air  was 
cool  and  moist,  and  a  gentle  breeze  was  blowing  from 
the  sea.  Oh!  the  joy  of  it  to  him  who  had  lain 
long  months  in  prison!  Israel  drank  in  the  night 
air  as  a  young  colt  drinks  in  the  wind. 

And  if  it  was  night  in  the  world  without,  it  was 
day  in  Israel's  heart.  "  I  am  going  to  be  happy," 
he  told  himself,  "  yes,  very  happy,  very  happy."  He 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  a  star,  bigger  and 
brighter  than  the  rest,  hung  over  the  path  before 
him.  "  It  is  leading  me  to  Naomi,"  he  thought. 
He  knew  that  was  folly,  but  he  could  not  restrain 
his  mind  from  foolishness.  And  at  least  she  had  the 
same  moon  and  stars  above  her  sleep,  for  she  would 
be  sleeping  now.  "  I  am  coming,"  he  cried.  He 
fixed  his  eye  on  the  bright  star  in  front  and  pushed 
forward,  never  resting,  never  pausing. 

The  morning  dawned.  Long  rippling  waves  of 
morning  air  came  down  the  mountains,  cool,  chill, 
and  moist.  The  grey  light  became  tinged  with  red. 
Then  the  sun  rose  somewhere.  It  had  not  yet  ap- 
peared, but  the  peak  of  the  western  hill  was  Hushed 
and  a  raven  flew  out  and  perched  on  the  point  of 
light.  Israel's  breast  expanded,  and  he  strode  on 
with  a  firmer  step.  "  She  will  be  waking  soon,"  he 
told  himself. 

The  world  awoke.  From  unseen  places  birds 
began  to  sing — the  wheatear  in  the  crevices  of  the 
rocks,  the  sedge-warbler  among  the  rushes  of  the 
rivers.     The  sun  strode  up  over  the  hill  summit,  and 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  PRISON.  295 

then  all  the  earth  below  was  bright.  Dewdrops 
sparkled  on  the  late  flowers,  and  lay  like  vast  spiders' 
webs  over  the  grass;  sheep  began  to  bleat,  dogs  to 
bark,  kine  to  low,  horses  to  cross  each  other's  necks, 
and  over  the  freshness  of  the  air  came  the  smell  of 
peat  and  of  green  boughs  burning.  Israel  did  not 
stop,  but  pushed  on  with  new  eagerness.  "  She  will 
have  risen  now,"  he  told  himself.  He  could  almost 
fancy  he  saw  her  opening  the  door  and  looking  out 
for  him  in  the  sunlight. 

"  Poor  little  thing,"  he  thought,  "  how  she  misses 
me!     But  I  am  coming,  I  am  coming! " 

The  country  looked  very  beautiful,  and  strangely 
changed  since  he  saw  it  last.  Then  it  had  been  like 
a  dead  man's  face;  now  it  was  like  a  face  that  was 
always  smiling.  And  though  the  year  was  so  old  it 
seemed  to  be  quite  young.  No  tired  look  of  autumn, 
no  warning  of  winter;  only  the  freshness  and  vigour 
of  spring.  "  I  am  going  to  see  my  child,  and  I  shall 
be  happy  yet,"  thought  Israel.  The  dust  of  life 
seemed  to  hang  on  him  no  longer. 

He  came  to  a  little  village  called  Dar  el  Fakeer — 
"  the  house  of  the  poor  one."  The  place  did  not 
even  justify  its  name,  for  it  was  a  cinerous  wreck. 
Not  a  living  creature  was  to  be  seen  anywhere.  The 
village  had  been  sacked  by  the  Sultan's  army,  and 
its  inhabitants  had  fled  to  the  mountains.  Israel 
paused  a  moment,  and  looked  into  one  of  the  ruined 
houses.  He  knew  it  must  have  been  the  house  of  a 
Jew,  for  he  could  recognise  it  by  its  smell.  The 
floor  was  strewn  over  with  rubbish — cans,  kettles, 
water-bottles,  a  woman's  handkerchief,  and  a  dainty 
red  slipper.  On  the  ragged  grass  in  the  court  within 
there   were   some   little   stones  built   up   into   tiny 


296  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

squares,  and  bits  of  stick  stuck  into  the  ground  in 
lines.  A  young  girl  had  lived  in  that  house;  children 
had  played  there;  the  gaunt  and  silent  place  breathed 
of  their  spirits  still.  "  Poor  souls!  "  thought  Israel, 
but  the  troubles  of  others  could  not  really  touch  him. 
At  that  moment  his  heart  was  joyful. 

The  day  was  warm,  but  not  too  hot  for  walking. 
Israel  did  not  feel  weary,  and  so  he  went  on  without 
resting.  He  reckoned  how  far  it  was  from  Shawan 
to  his  home  near  Semsa.  It  was  nearly  seventy 
miles.  That  distance  would  take  two  days  and  two 
nights  to  cover  on  foot.  He  had  left  the  prison  on 
Wednesday  night,  and  it  would  be  Friday  at  sunset 
before  he  reached  Naomi.  It  was  now  Thursday 
morning.  He  must  lose  no  time.  "  You  see,  the 
poor  little  thing  will  be  waiting,  waiting,  waiting," 
he  told  himself.  "  These  sweet  creatures  are  all  so 
impatient;  yes,  yes,  so  foolishly  impatient,  God  bless 
them!  " 

He  met  people  on  the  road,  and  hailed  them  with 
good  cheer.  They  answered  his  greetings  sadly,  and 
a  few  of  them  told  him  of  their  trouble.  Something 
they  said  of  Ben  Aboo,  that  he  demanded  a  hundred 
dollars  which  they  could  not  pay,  and  something  of 
the  Sultan,  that  he  had  ransacked  their  houses  and 
then  gone  on  with  his  great  army,  his  twenty  wives, 
and  fifteen  tents  to  keep  the  feast  at  Tetuan.  But 
Israel  hardly  knew  what  they  told  him,  though  he 
tried  to  lend  an  ear  to  their  story.  He  was  thinking 
out  a  wonderful  scheme  for  the  future.  With  Naomi 
he  was  to  leave  Morocco.  They  were  to  sail  for  Eng- 
land. Free,  mighty,  noble,  beautiful  England!  Ah! 
how  it  shone  in  bis  memory,  the  little  white  island 
of  the  sea!     His  mother's  home!     England!     Yes,  he 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  PRISON.  297 

would  go  back  to  it.  True,  he  had  no  friends  there 
now;  but  what  matter  of  that?  Ah  yes,  he  was  old, 
and  the  roll-call  of  his  kindred  showed  him  pitiful 
gaps.  His  mother!  Euth!  But  he  had  Naomi  still. 
Naomi!  He  spoke  her  name  aloud,  softly,  tenderly, 
caressingly,  as  if  his  wrinkled  hand  were  on  her  hair. 
Then  recovering  himself,  he  laughed  to  think  that 
he  could  be  so  childish. 

Near  to  sunset  he  came  upon  a  dooar,  a  tent  vil- 
lage, in  a  waste  place.  It '  was  pitched  in  a  wide 
circle,  and  opened  inwards.  The  animals  were  pick- 
eted in  the  centre,  where  children  and  dogs  were 
playing,  and  the  voices  of  men  and  women  came  from 
inside  the  tents.  Fires  were  burning  under  kettles 
swung  from  triangles,  and  sight  of  this  reminded 
Israel  that  he  had  not  eaten  since  the  previous  day. 
"  I  must  have  food,''*  he  thought,  "  though  I  do  not 
feel  hungry."  So  he  stopped,  and  the  wandering 
Arabs  hailed  him.  "  Markababikum!  "  they  cried 
from  where  they  sat  within. 

"You  are  very  welcome!  Welcome  to  our  lofty 
land!  "     Their  land  was  the  world. 

Israel  went  into  one  of  the  tents,  and  sat  down 
to  a  dish  of  boiled  beans  and  black  bread.  It  was 
very  sweet.  A  man  was  eating  beside  him;  a  woman, 
half  dressed,  and  with  face  uncovered,  was  suckling 
a  child  while  she  worked  a  loom  which  was  fastened 
to  the  tent's  two  upright  poles.  Some  fowls  were 
nestling  for  the  night  under  the  tent  wing,  and  a 
young  girl  was  by  turns  churning  milk  by  tossing  it 
in  a  goat's-skin  and  baking  cakes  on  a  fire  of  dried 
thistles  crackling  in  a  hole  over  three  stones.  All 
were  laughing  together,  and  Israel  laughed  along 
with  them. 


298  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  On  a  long  journey,  brother?  "  said  the  man. 

"  No,  oh  no,  no,"  said  Israel.  "  Only  to  Semsa, 
no  farther." 

"  Well,  you  must  sleep  here  to-night,"  said  the 
Arab. 

"  Ah,  I  cannot  do  that,"  said  Israel. 

"No?" 

"  You  see,  I  am  going  back  to  my  little  daughter. 
She  is  alone,  poor  child,  and  has  not  seen  her  old 
father  for  months.  Eeally  it  is  wrong  of  a  man  to 
stay  away  such  a  time.  These  tender  creatures  are 
so  impatient,  you  know.  And  then  they  imagine 
such  things,  do  they  not?  Well,  I  suppose  we  must 
humour  them — that's  what  I  always  say." 

"  But  look,  the  night  is  coming,  and  a  dark  one 
too!  "  said  the  woman. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  that's  nothing,  sister,"  said  Israel. 
"  Well,  peace!     Farewell  all,  farewell!  " 

Waving  his  hand  he  went  away  laughing,  but  be- 
fore he  had  gone  far  the  darkness  overtook  him.  It 
came  down  from  the  mountains  like  a  dense  black 
cloud.  Not  a  star  in  the  sky,  not  a  gleam  on  the 
land,  darkness  ahead  of  him,  darkness  behind,  one 
thick  pall  hanging  in  the  air  on  every  side.  Still 
for  a  while  lie  toiled  along.  Every  step  was  an  effort. 
The  ground  seemed  to  sink  under  him.  It  was  like 
walking  on  mattresses.  He  began  to  feel  tired  and 
nervous  ami  .spiritless.  A  cold  sweat  broke  out  on 
his  brow,  and  at  length,  when  the  sound  of  a  river 
came  from  somewhere,  though  on  which  side  of  him 
he  could  not  tell,  he  had  no  choice  but  to  stop. 
"Alter  all,  it  is  better,"  he  thought.  "Strange, 
how  things  happen  for  the  best!  I  must  sleep  to- 
night, for  to-morrow  night  I  will  get  no  sleep  at  all. 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  PRISON.  299 

No,  I  shall  have  so  many  things  to  say  and  to  ask 
and  to  hear." 

Consoling  himself  thus,  he  tried  to  sleep  where  he 
was,  and  as  slumber  crept  upon  him  in  the  darkness, 
with  five-and-twenty  heavy  miles  of  dense  night  be- 
tween him  and  his  home,  he  crooned  and  talked  to 
himself  in  a  childish  way  that  he  might  comfort  his 
aching  heart.  "  Yes,  I  must  sleep — sleep — to-mor- 
row she  must  sleep  and  I  must  watch  by  her — watch 
by  her  as  I  used  to  do — used  to  do — how  soft  and 
beautiful — how  beautiful — sleeping — sleep — Ah!  " 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  had  risen.  The  sea  lay 
before  him  in  the  distance,  the  blue  Mediterranean 
stretching  out  to  the  blue  sky.  He  was  on  the  bor- 
ders of  the  country  of  the  Beni-Hassan,  and,  after 
wading  the  river,  which  he  had  heard  in  the  night, 
he  began  again  on  his  journey.  It  was  now  Friday 
morning,  and  by  sunset  of  that  day  he  would  be  back 
at  his  home  near  Semsa.  Already  he  could  see  Tetu- 
an  far  away,  girt  by  its  white  walls,  and  perched 
on  the  hillside.  Yonder  it  lay  in  the  sunlight,  with 
the  snow-tipped  heights  above  it,  a  white  blaze  sur- 
rounded by  orange  orchards. 

But  how  dizzy  he  was!  How  the  world  went 
round!  How  the  earth  trembled!  Was  the  glare  of 
the  sun  too  fierce  that  morning,  or  had  his  eyes  grown 
dim?  Going  blind?  Well,  even  so,  he  would  not 
repine,  for  Naomi  could  see  now.  She  would  see  for 
him  also.  How  sweet  to  see  through  Naomi's  eyes! 
Naomi  was  young  and  joyous,  and  bright  and  blithe. 
All  the  world  was  new  to  her,  and  strange  and  beau- 
tiful.   It  would  be  a  second  and  far  sweeter  youth. 

Naomi — Naomi — always  Naomi!  He  had  thought 
of  her  hitherto  as  she  had  appeared  to  him  during 


300  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

the  few  days  of  their  happy  lives  at  Semsa.  But 
now  he  began  to  wonder  if  time  had  not  changed 
her  since  then.  Two  months  and  a  half — it  seemed 
so  long!  He  had  visions  of  Naomi  grown  from  a 
sweet  girl  to  a  lovely  woman.  A  great  soul  beamed 
out  of  her  big,  slow  eyes.  He  himself  approached  her 
meekly,  humbly,  reverently.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
her  father  still — her  old,  tired,  dim-eyed  father,  and 
she  led  him  here  and  there,  and  described  things  to 
him.  He  could  see  and  hear  it  all.  First  Naomi's 
voice:  "  A  bow  in  the  sky — red,  blue,  crimson — oh! ': 
Then  his  own  deeper  one,  out  of  its  lightsome  dark- 
ness: "A  rainbow,  child!"  Ah!  the  dreams  were 
beautiful! 

He  tried  to  recall  the  very  tones  of  Naomi's  voice 
— the  voice  of  his  poor  dead  Ruth — and  to  remember 
the  song  that  she  used  to  sing — the  song  she  sang 
in  the  patio  on  that  great  night  of  the  moonlight, 
when  he  was  returning  home  from  the  Bab  Ramooz, 
and  heard  her  singing  from  the  street — 

Within  my  heart  a  voice 
Bids  earth  and  heaven  rejoice. 

He  sang  the  song  to  himself  as  he  toiled  along. 
With  a  little  lisp  he  sang  it,  so  that  he  might  cheat 
himself  and  think  that  the  voice  he  was  making  was 
Naomi's  voice  and  not  his  own. 

Towards  midday  Israel  came  under  the  walls  of 
Tetuan,  between  the  Sultan's  gardens  and  the  flour- 
mills  that  arc  turned  by  the  escaping  sewers,  and 
there  he  lit  upon  a  company  of  Jews.  They  were 
a  deputation  that  had  come  out  from  the  town  to 
meet  him,  and  at  first  sight  of  his  face  they  were 
shocked.    He  had  left  Tetuan  a  stricken  man,  it  was 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  PRISON.  301 

true,  but  strong  and  firm,  fifty  years  of  age  and  reso- 
lute. Six  months  had  passed,  and  he  was  coming 
back  as  a  weak,  broken,  shattered,  doddering,  infirm 
old  man  of  eighty.  Their  hearts  fell  low  before  they 
spoke,  but  after  a  pause  one  of  them — Israel  knew 
him:  a  grey-bearded  man,  his  name  was  Solomon  La- 
redo— stepped  up  and  said,  "  Israel  ben  Oliel,  our 
poor  Tetuan  is  in  trouble.  It  needs  you.  Alas!  we 
dealt  ill  with  you,  but  God  has  punished  us,  and  we 
are  brothers  now.  Come  back  to  us,  we  pray  of  you; 
for  we  have  heard  of  a  great  thing  that  is  coming  to 
pass.     Listen! " 

Something  they  told  him  then  of  Mohammed  of 
Mequinez,  follower  of  Seedna  A'isa  (Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth), but  a  good  man  nevertheless,  and  also  some- 
thing they  said  of  the  Spaniards  and  of  one  Mar- 
shal O'Donnel,  who  was  to  bombard  Marteel.  But 
Israel  heard  very  little.  "  I  think  my  hearing  must 
be  failing  me,"  he  said;  and  then  he  laughed  lightly, 
as  if  that  did  not  greatly  matter.  "  And  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  though  I  pity  my  poor  brethren,  I  can  no 
longer  help  them.  God  will  raise  up  a  better  min- 
ister." 

"  Never!  "  cried  the  Jews  in  many  voices. 

"  Anyhow,"  said  Israel,  "  my  life  among  you  is 
ended.  I  set  no  store  by  place  and  power.  What 
does  the  English  poet  say,  '  In  the  great  hand  of  God 
I  stand.'  Shakespeare — oh,  a  mighty  creature — one 
who  knew  where  the  soul  of  a  man  lay.  But  I  forget, 
you've  not  lived  in  England.  Do  you  know  I  am 
to  go  there  again,  and  to  take  my  little  daughter? 
You  remember  her — Naomi — a  charming  girl.  She 
can  see  now,  and  hear,  and  speak  also!  Yes,  for 
God  has  lifted  His  hand  away  from  her,  and  I  am 


302  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

going  to  be  very  happy.  Well,  I  must  leave  you, 
brothers.  The  little  one  will  be  waiting.  I  must 
not  keep  her  too  long,  must  I?     Peace,  peace!  " 

Seeing  his  profound  faith,  no  one  dared  to  tell 
him  the  truth  that  was  on  every  tongue.  A  wave  of 
compassion  swept  over  all.  The  deputation  stood 
and  watched  him  until  he  had  sunk  under  the  hill. 

And  now,  being  come  thus  near  to  home,  Israel's 
impatience  robbed  him  of  some  of  his  happy  confi- 
dence and  filled  him  with  fears.  He  began  to  think 
of  all  the  evil  chances  that  might  have  befallen 
Naomi.  His  absence  had  been  so  long,  and  so  many 
tilings  might  have  happened  since  he  went  away.  In 
this  mood  he  tried  to  run.  It  was  a  poor  uncertain 
shamble.  At  nearly  every  step  the  body  lurched  for 
poise  and  balance. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  point  of  the  path  from 
which,  as  he  knew,  the  little  rush-covered  house 
ought  to  be  seen.  "  It's  yonder,"  he  cried,  and 
pointed  it  out  to  himself  with  uplifted  finger.  The 
sun  was  sinking,  and  its  strong  rays  were  in  his  face. 
"  She's  there,  I  see  her!  "  he  shouted.  A  few  min- 
utes later  he  was  near  the  door.  "  No,  my  eyes  de- 
ceived me,"  he  said  in  a  damp  voice.  "  Or  perhaps 
she  has  gone  in — perhaps  she's  hiding — the  sweet 
rogue! " 

The  door  was  half  open;  he  pushed  it  and  entered 
the  house.  "  Naomi!  "  he  called  in  a  voice  like  a  ca- 
ress. "  Naomi!  "  His  voice  trembled  now.  "  Come 
to  me,  come,  dearest;  come  quickly,  quickly,  I  can- 
not see! ';  I  If  listened.  There  was  not  a  sound,  not 
a  movement.  "  Naomi! ':  The  name  was  like  a  gur- 
gle in  his  throat.  There  wras  a  pause,  and  then  he 
said  very  feebly  and  simply,  "  She's  not  here." 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  PRISON.  303 

He  looked  around,  and  picked  up  something  from 
the  floor.  It  was  a  slipper  covered  with  mould.  As 
he  gazed  upon  it  a  change  came  over  his  face.  Dead? 
was  Naomi  dead?  He  had  thought  of  death  before 
— for  himself,  for  others,  never  for  Naomi.  At  a 
stride  the  awful  thing  was  on  him.     Death!     Oh,  oh! 

With  a  helpless,  broken,  blind  look  he  was  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  floor  with  the  slipper  in  his 
hand,  when  a  footstep  came  to  the  door.  He  flung 
the  slipper  away  and  threw  open  his  arms.  Naomi — 
it  must  be  she! 

It  was  Fatimah.  She  had  come  in  secret,  that 
the  evil  news  of  what  had  been  done  at  the  Kasbah 
and  the  Mosque  might  not  be  broken  to  Israel  too 
suddenly.  He  met  her  with  a  terrible  question. 
"  Where  is  she  laid?  "  he  said  in  a  voice  of  awe. 

Fatimah  saw  his  error  instantly.  "  Naomi  is 
alive,"  she  said,  and,  seeing  how  the  clouds  lifted  off 
his  face,  she  added  quickly,  "  and  well,  very  well." 

That  is  not  telling  a  falsehood,  she  thought;  but 
when  Israel,  with  a  cry  of  joy  which  was  partly  pain, 
flung  his  arms  about  her,  she  saw  what  she  had  done. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  cried.  "Bring  her,  you 
dear  good  soul.  Why  is  she  not  here?  Lead  me  to 
her,  lead  me!  " 

Then  Fatimah  began  to  wring  her  hands. 
"Alas!"  she  said,  weeping,  "that  cannot  be." 

Israel  steadied  himself  and  waited.  "  She  cannot 
come  to  you,  and  neither  can  you  go  to  her,"  said 
Fatimah.  "But  she  is  well,  oh!  very  well.  Poor 
child,  she  is  at  the  Kasbah — no,  no,  not  the  prison 
— oh  no,  she  is  happy — I  mean  she  is  well,  yes,  and 
cared  for — indeed,  she  is  at  the  palace — the  women's 
palace — but  set  your  mind  easy — she " 


304:  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

With  such  broken,  blundering  words  the  good 
woman  blurted  out  the  truth,  and  tried  to  deaden  the 
blow  of  it.  But  the  soul  lives  fast,  and  Israel  lived 
a  lifetime  in  that  moment. 

"  The   palace! ''    he   said  in   a   bewildered   way. 

"  The  women's  palace — the  women's "  and  then 

broke  off  shortly.  "  Fatimah,  I  want  to  go  to  Nao- 
mi," he  said. 

And  Fatimah  stammered,  "Alas!  alas!  you  can- 
not, you  never  can " 

"  Fatimah,"  said  Israel,  with  an  awful  calm, 
"can't  you  see,  woman,  I  have  come  home?  I  and 
Naomi  have  been  long  parted.  Do  you  not  under- 
stand?— I  want  to  go  to  my  daughter." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Fatimah;  "  but  you  can  never 
go  to  her  any  more.  She  is  in  the  women's  apart- 
ments  " 

Then  a  great  hoarse  groan  came  from  Israel's 
throat. 

"  Poor  child,  it  was  not  her  fault.  Listen,"  said 
Fatimah;  "  only  listen." 

But  Israel  would  hear  no  more.  The  torrent  of 
his  fury  bore  down  everything  before  it.  Fatimah's 
feeble  protests  were  drowned.  "  Silence!  "  he  cried. 
"  What  need  is  there  for  words?  She  is  in  the  pal- 
ace!— that's  enough.  The  women's  palace — the  ha- 
reem — what  more  is  there  to  say?  " 

Putting  the  fact  so  to  his  own  consciousness,  and 
seeing  it  grossly  in  all  its  horror,  his  passion  fell  like 
a  breaking  in  of  waters.  "  0  God!  "  he  cried,  "  my 
enemy  casts  me  into  prison.  I  lie  there,  rotting, 
starving.  I  think  of  my  little  daughter  left  behind 
alone.  I  hasten  home  to  her.  But  where  is  she? 
She  is  gone.     She  is  in  the  house  of  my  enemy. 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  PRISON.  305 

Curse  her!  .  .  .  Ah!  no,  no;  not  that,  either!  Par- 
don me,  0  God;  not  that,  whatever  happens!  But 
the  palace — the  women's  palace.  Naomi!  My  little 
daughter!  Her  face  was  so  sweet,  so  simple.  I 
could  have  sworn  that  she  was  innocent.  My  love! 
my  dove!  I  had  only  to  look  at  her  to  see  that  she 
loved  me!  And  now  the  hareem — that  hell;  and 
Ben  Aboo — that  libertine!  I  have  lost  her  for  ever! 
Yet  her  soul  was  mine — I  wrestled  with  God  for 
it " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  his  face  became  awfully  dis- 
coloured, he  dropped  to  his  knees  on  the  floor,  lifted 
his  eyes  and  his  hands  towards  heaven,  and  cried  in 
a  voice  at  once  stern  and  heartrending,  "  Kill  her, 
0  God!  Kill  her  body,  0  my  God,  that  her  soul  may 
be  mine  again! " 

At  this  awful  cry  Fatimah  fled  out  of  the  hut. 
It  was  the  last  voice  of  tottering  reason.  After 
that  he  became  quiet,  and  when  Fatimah  returned 
the  following  morning  he  was  talking  to  himself  in 
a  childish  way  while  sitting  at  the  door,  and  gazing 
before  him  with  a  lifeless  look.  Sometimes  he  quoted 
Scriptures  which  were  startlingly  true  to  his  own 
condition:  "I  am  alone,  I  am  a  companion  to  owls. 
...  I  have  cleansed  my  heart  in  vain.  .  .  .  My  feet 
are  almost  gone,  my  steps  have  well  nigh  slipped. 
...  I  am  as  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth." 

Between  these  Scriptures  there  were  low  incohe- 
rent cries  and  simple  foolish  play-words.  Again  and 
again  he  called  on  Naomi,  always  softly  and  ten- 
derly, as  if  her  name  were  a  sacred  thing.  At  times 
he  appeared  to  think  that  he  was  back  in  prison,  and 
made  a  little  prayer — always  the  same — that  some 
one  should  be  kept  from  harm  and  evil.     Once  he 


306  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

seemed  to  hear  a  voice  that  cried,  "Israel  hen  Oliel! 
Israel  ben  Oliel!"  "Here!  Israel  is  here!"  he  an- 
swered. He  thought  the  Kaid  was  calling  him. 
The  Kaid  was  the  King.  "  Yes,  I  will  go  back  to 
the  King,"  he  said.  Then  he  looked  down  at  his 
tattered  kaftan,  which  was  mired  with  dirt,  and  tried 
to  brush  it  clean,  to  button  it,  and  to  tie  up  the 
ragged  threads  of  it.  At  last  he  cried,  as  if  servants 
were  about  him  and  he  were  a  master  still,  "  Bring 
me  robes — clean  robes — white  robes;  I  am  going 
back  to  the  King!  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   ENTRY    OF   THE    SULTAN. 

Meantime  Tetuan  was  looking  for  the  visit  of 
His  Shereefian  Majesty  the  Sultan  Abd  er-Rahman. 
He  had  been  heard  of  about  four  hours  away,  en- 
camped with  his  Ministers,  a  portion  of  his  hareem, 
and  a  detachment  of  his  army,  somewhere  by  the 
foot  of  Beni  Hosmar.  His  entry  was  fixed  for 
eight  o'clock  next  morning,  and  preparations  for 
his  coming  were  everywhere  afoot.  All  other  oc- 
cupations were  at  a  standstill,  and  nothing  was 
to  be  heard  but  the  noise  and  clamour  of  the  cleans- 
ing of  the  streets,  and  the  hanging  of  flags  and 
carpets. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  a  street-crier 
came,  beating  a  drum,  and  crying  in  a  hoarse  voice, 
"Awake!  Awake!  Come  and  greet  your  Lord! 
Awake!     Awake! " 

In  a  little  while  the  streets  were  alive  with  mot- 
ley and  noisy  crowds.  The  sun  was  up,  if  still  red 
and  hazy,  and  the  sunlight  came  like  a  tunnel  of 
gold  down  the  swampy  valley  and  from  over  the  sea; 
the  orange  orchards  lying  to  the  south,  called  the 
gardens  of  the  Sultan,  were  red  rather  than  yellow, 
and  the  snowy  crests  of  the  mountain  heights  above 
them  were  crimson  rather  than  white.  In  the  town 
itself  the  small  red  flag  that  is  the  Moorish  ensign 
21  307 


308  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

hung  out  from  every  house,  and  carpets  of  various 
colours  swung  on  many  walls. 

The  sun  was  not  yet  high  before  the  Sultan's 
army  began  to  arrive.  It  was  a  mixed  and  noisy 
throng  that  came  first,  a  sort  of  ragged  regiment  of 
Arabs,  with  long  guns,  and  with  their  gun-cases 
wrapped  about  their  heads — a  big  gang  of  wild  coun- 
try-folk lately  enlisted  as  soldiers.  They  poured  into 
the  town  at  the  western  gate,  and  shuttled  and  jos- 
tled and  squeezed  their  way  through  the  narrow 
streets,  firing  recklessly  into  the  air,  and  shouting  as 
they  went,  "  Abd  er-Kahman  is  coming!  The  Sul- 
tan is  coming!  Dogs!  Men!  Believers!  Infidels! 
come  out!  come  out!" 

Thus  they  went  puffing  along,  covered  with  dust 
and  sweltering  in  perspiration,  and  at  every  fresh 
shot  and  shout  the  streets  they  passed  through  grew 
denser.  But  it  was  a  grim  satire  on  their  lawless 
loyalty  that  almost  at  their  heels  there  came  into 
the  town,  not  the  Sultan  himself,  but  a  troop  of  his 
prisoners  from  the  mountains.  Ten  of  them  there 
were  in  all,  guarded  by  ten  soldiers,  and  they  made 
a  sorry  spectacle.  They  were  chained  together,  man 
to  man,  in  single  file,  not  hand  to  hand  or  leg  to  leg, 
but  neck  to  neck.  So  had  they  walked  a  hundred 
miles,  never  separated  night  or  day,  either  sleeping 
or  waking,  or  faint  or  strong.  The  feet  of  some 
were  bare  and  torn,  and  dripping  blood;  the  faces  of 
all  were  black  with  grime,  and  streaked  with  lines 
of  sweat.  And  thus  they  toiled  into  the  streets  in 
that  sunlight  of  God's  own  morning,  under  the  red 
ensigns  of  Morocco,  by  the  many-coloured  carpets  of 
Eabat,  to  the  Kasbah  beyond  the  market-place. 
They  were  Keefians  whose  homes  the  Sultan  had 


THE  ENTRY  OF  THE  SULTAN.  309 

just  stripped,  whose  villages  he  had  just  burnt,  whose 
wives  and  children  he  had  just  driven  into  the  moun- 
tains.    And  they  were  going  to  die  in  his  dungeons. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  by  this  time,  and  rumour 
had  it  that  the  Sultan's  train  was  moving  down  the 
valley.  From  the  roofs  of  the  houses  a  vast  human 
ant-hill  could  be  seen  swarming  across  the  plain  in 
the  distance.  Then  came  some  rapid  transforma- 
tions of  the  scene  below.  First  the  streets  were  de- 
serted by  every  decent  blue  jellab  and  clean  white 
turban  within  range  of  sight.  These  presently  reap- 
peared on  the  roofs  of  the  principal  thoroughfare, 
where  groups  of  women,  closely  covered  in  their  haiks, 
had  already  begun  to  congregate  with  their  dark  at- 
tendants. Next,  a  body  of  the  townsmen  who  pos- 
sessed firearms  mounted  guard  on  the  walls  to  protect 
the  town  from  the  lawlessness  of  the  big  army  that 
was  coming.  Then  into  the  Feddan,  the  square  mar- 
ket-place, came  pouring  from  their  own  little  quarter 
within  its  separate  walls  a  throng  of  Jewish  people, 
in  their  black  gaberdines  and  skull-caps,  men  and 
women  and  children,  carrying  banners  that  bore  loyal 
inscriptions,  twanging  at  tambourines  and  crying  in 
wild  discords,  "  God  bless  our  Lord!  "  "  God  give  vic- 
tory to  our  Lord  the  Sultan!  " 

The  poor  Jews  got  small  thanks  for  such  loyalty 
to  the  last  of  the  Caliphs  of  the  Prophet.  Every 
ragged  Moor  in  the  streets  greeted  them  with  ex- 
clamations of  menace  and  abhorrence.  Even  the 
blind  beggar  crouching  at  the  gate  lifted  up  his  voice 
and  cursed  them. 

"  Get  out,  you  Jew!  God  burn  your  father! 
Dogs,    take    off   your   slippers — Abd   er-Rahman   is 


coming 


!  » 


310  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

Thus  they  were  scolded  and  abused  on  every  side, 
kicked,  cuffed,  jostled,  and  wedged  together  well- 
nigh  to  suffocation.  Their  banners  were  torn  out 
of  their  hands,  their  tambourines  were  broken,  their 
voices  were  drowned,  and  finally  they  were  driven 
back  into  their  Mellah  and  shut  up  there,  and  for- 
bidden to  look  upon  the  entry  of  the  Sultan  even 
from  their  roofs. 

And  the  vagabonds  and  ragamuffins  among  the 
faithful  in  the  streets,  having  got  rid  of  the  unbe- 
lievers, had  enough  ado  to  keep  peace  among  them- 
selves. They  pushed  and  struggled  and  stormed  and 
cried  and  laughed  and  clamoured  down  this  main  ar- 
tery of  the  town  through  which  the  Sultan's  train 
must  pass.  Men  and  boys,  women  also  and  young 
girls,  donkeys  with  packs,  bony  mules  too,  and  at  least 
one  dirty  and  terrified  old  camel.  It  was  a  con- 
fused and  uproarious  babel.  Angry  black  faces 
thrust  into  white  ones,  flashing  eyes  and  gleaming 
white  teeth,  and  clenched  fists  uplifted.  Human 
voices  barking  like  dogs,  yelping  like  hyenas,  shrill 
and  guttural,  piercing  and  grating.  Prayings,  beg- 
gings, quarrellings,  cursings. 

"  Arrah !     Arrah !  Arrah !  " 

"  0  merciful!     0  Giver  of  good  to  all!  " 

"  Curses  on  your  grandfather!  " 

"Allah!  Allah!  Allah!" 

"Balak!  Balak!  Balak!" 

But  presently  the  wild  throng  fell  into  order  and 
silence.  The  gate  of  the  Kasbah  was  thrown  open, 
and  a  line  of  soldiers  came  out,  headed  by  the  Kaid 
of  Tetuan,  and  moved  on  towards  the  city  wall.  The 
rabble  were  thrust  back,  the  soldiers  were  drawn  up 
in  linos  on  cither  side  of  the  street,  and  the  Kaid, 


THE  ENTRY  OP  THE  SULTAN.      31 1 

Ben  Aboo  himself,  took  a  position  by  the  western 
gate. 

By  this  time  there  was  commotion  on  the  town 
walls  among  the  townsmen  who  had  gathered  there. 
The  Sultan's  army  was  drawing  near,  a  confused  and 
disorderly  mass  of  human  beings  moving  on  from 
the  plain.  As  they  came  up  to  the  walls,  the  people 
who  were  standing  on  the  house-roofs  could  see 
them,  and  as  they  were  ordered  away  to  encamp  by 
the  river,  none  could  help  but  hear  their  shouts  and 
oaths. 

When  the  motley  and  noisy  concourse  had  been 
driven  off  to  their  camping-ground,  the  gates  of  the 
town  were  thrown  wide,  for  the  Sultan  himself  was 
at  hand. 

First  came  two  soldiers  afoot,  and  then  followed 
five  artillerymen,  with  their  small  pieces  packed  on 
mules.  Next  came  mounted  standard-bearers  four 
deep,  some  in  red,  some  in  blue,  arid  some  in  green. 
Then  came  the  out-runners  and  the  spearmen,  and 
then  the  Sultan's  six  led  horses.  And  then  at  length, 
with  the  great  red  umbrella  of  royalty  held  over  him, 
came  the  Sultan  himself,  the  elderly  sensualist,  with 
his  dusky  cheeks,  his  rheumy  eyes,  his  thick  lips,  and 
his  heavy  nostrils.  The  fat  father  of  Islam  was 
mounted  that  day  on  a  snow-white  stallion,  bedecked 
in  gorgeous  trappings.  Its  bridle  was  of  green  silk, 
embroidered  in  gold.  Solomon's  seal  was  stamped 
on  its  head-gear,  and  the  tooth  of  a  boar — a  safe- 
guard against  the  evil  eye — was  suspended  from  its 
neck.  Its  saddle  was  of  orange  damask,  with  girths 
of  stout  silk,  and  its  stirrups  were  of  chased  silver. 
The  Sultan's  own  trappings  were  of  the  colour  of 
his  horse.     His  kaftan  was  of  white  cloth,  with  an 


312  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

embroidered  leathern  girdle;  his  turban  was  of  white 
cotton,  and  his  kisa  was  also  white  and  transparent. 

As  he  passed  under  the  archway  of  the  town's 
gate  the  cannon  of  the  Kasbah  boomed  forth  a  sa- 
lute, Ben  Aboo  dismounted  and  kissed  his  stirrup, 
and  the  crowds  in  the  streets  burst  upon  him  with 
blessings. 

"  God  bless  our  Lord!" 

"  Sultan  Abd  er-Eahman!  " 

"  God  prolong  the  life  of  our  Lord! '; 

He  seemed  hardlv  to  hear  them.  Once  his  hand 
touched  his  breast  when  the  Kaid  approached  him. 
After  that  he  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the 
left,  nor  gave  any  sign  of  pleasure  or  recognition. 
Nevertheless  the  people  in  the  streets  ceased  not  to 
greet  him  with  deafening  acclamations. 

"  All's  well,  all's  well,"  they  told  each  other,  and 
pointed  to  the  white  horse — the  sign  of  peace — which 
the  Sultan  rode,  and  to  the  riderless  black  horse — 
the  sign  of  strife — that  pranced  behind  him. 

The  women  on  the  housetops  also,  in  their  hooded 
cloaks,  welcomed  the  Sultan  with  a  shrill  ululation: 
"  Yoo-yoo,  yoo-yoo,  yoo-yoo!  " 

Not  (Kiit cut  with  this,  the  usual  greeting  of  their 
sex  and  nation,  some  of  them  who  had  hitherto  been 
closely  veiled  threw  back  their  muslin  coverings,  ex- 
posed their  faces  to  his  face,  and  welcomed  him  with 
more  articulate  cries. 

He  gave  them  neither  a  smile  nor  a  glance,  but 
rode  straight  onward.  Beside  him  walked  the  fly- 
flappers,  flapping  the  air  before  his  podgy  cheeks 
with  long  scarfs  of  silk,  and  behind  him  rode  his  Min- 
isters of  State,  five  sleek  dogs  who  daily  fed  his  ap- 
petites on  carrion  that  his  head  might  be  like  his 


THE  ENTRY  OP  THE  SULTAN.  313 

stomach,  and  their  power  over  him  thereby  the 
greater.  After  the  Ministers  of  State  came  a  part  of 
the  royal  hareem.  The  ladies  rode  on  mules,  and 
were  attended  by  eunuchs. 

Such  was  the  entry  into  Tetuan  of  the  Sultan 
Abd  er-Eahman.  In  their  heart  of  hearts  did  the 
people  rejoice  at  his  visit?  No.  Too  well  they  knew 
that  the  tyrant  had  done  nothing  for  his  subjects  but 
take  their  taxes.  Not  a  man  had  he  protected  from 
injustice;  not  a  woman  had  he  saved  from  dishonour. 
Never  a  rich  usurer  among  them  but  trembled  at  his 
messages,  nor  a  poor  wretch  but  dreaded  his  dun- 
geons. His  law  existed  only  for  himself;  his  gov- 
ernment had  no  object  but  to  collect  his  dues.  And 
yet  his  people  had  received  him  amid  wild  vocifera- 
tions of  welcome. 

Fear,  fear!  Fear  it  was  in  the  heart  of  the  rich 
man  on  the  housetops,  whose  moneys  were  hidden, 
as  well  as  in  the  darkened  soul  of  the  blind  beggar  at 
the  gate,  whose  eyes  had  been  gouged  out  long  ago 
because  he  dared  not  divulge  the  secret  place  of  his 
wealth. 

But  early  in  the  evening  of  that  same  day,  at  the 
corners  of  quiet  streets,  in  the  covered  ways,  by  the 
doors  of  bazaars,  among  the  horses  tethered  in  the 
fondaks,  wheresoever  two  men  could  stand  and  talk 
unheard  and  unobserved  by  a  third,  one  secret  mes- 
sage of  twofold  significance  passed  with  the  voice  of 
smothered  'joy  from  lip  to  lip.  And  this  was  the 
way  and  the  word  of  it: — 

"  She  is  back  in  the  Kasbah!  " 

"  The  daughter  of  Ben  Oliel?  Thank  God!  But 
why?     Has  she  recanted?  " 

"  She  has  fallen  sick." 


314  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  And  Ben  Aboo  has  sent  her  to  prison?  " 

"  He  thinks  that  the  physician  who  will  cure  her 
quickest." 

"  Allah  save  us!  The  dog  of  dogs!  But  God  he 
praised!     At  least  she  is  saved  from  the  Sultan." 

"  For  the  present,  only  for  the  present." 

"  For  ever,  brother,  for  ever!  Listen!  your  ear. 
A  word  of  news  for  your  news:  the  Mahdi  is  coming! 
The  boy  has  been  for  him." 

"  Bismillah!     Ben  Oliel's  boy?  " 

"  Ali.  He  is  back  in  Tetuan.  And  listen  again! 
Behind  the  Mahdi  comes  the " 

"Ya  Allah!  well?" 

"  Hark!  A  footstep  on  the  street — some  one  is 
near " 

"  But  quick.     Behind  the  Mahdi— what?  " 

"  God  will  show!     In  peace,  brother,  in  peace! " 

"In  peace! " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    COMING   OF   THE    MAHDI. 

The  Mahdi  came  back  in  the  evening.  He  had 
no  standard-bearers  going  before  him,  no  outrunners, 
no  spearmen,  no  fly-flappers,  no  ministers  of  state; 
he  rode  no  white  stallion  in  gorgeous  trappings,  and 
was  himself  bedecked  in  no  snowy  garments.  His 
ragged  following  he  had  left  behind  him;  he  was 
alone;  he  was  afoot;  a  selham  of  rough  grey  cloth 
was  all  his  bodily  adornment;  yet  he  was  mightier 
than  the  monarch  who  had  entered  Tetuan  that 
day. 

He  passed  through  the  town  not  like  a  sultan, 
but  like  a  saint;  not  like  a  conquering  prince,  but  like 
an  avenging  angel.  Outside  the  town  he  had  come 
upon  the  great  body  of  the  Sultan's  army  lying  en- 
camped under  the  walls.  The  townspeople  who  had 
shut  the  soldiers  out,  with  all  the  rabble  of  their  fol- 
lowing, had  nevertheless  sent  them  fifty  camels'  load 
of  keskoo,  and  it  had  been  served  in  equal  parts,  half 
a  pound  to  each  man.  Where  this  meal  had  already 
been  eaten,  the  usual  charlatans  of  the  market-place 
had  been  busily  plying  their  accustomed  trades. 
Black  jugglers  from  Zoos,  sham  snake-charmers  from 
the  desert,  and  story-tellers  both  grave  and  facetious, 
all  twanging  their  hideous  ginbri,  had  been  seated  on 
the    ground    in   half-circles    of    soldiers    and    their 

315 


316  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

women.  But  the  Mahdi  had  broken  up  and  scattered 
every  group  of  them. 

"Away!"  he  had  cried.  "Away  with  your  un- 
cleanness  and  deception." 

And  the  foulest  babbler  of  them  all,  hot  with  the 
exercise  of  the  indecent  gestures  wherewith  he  illus- 
trated his  filthy  tale,  had  slunk  off  like  a  pariah  dog. 

As  the  Mahdi  entered  the  town  a  number  of 
mountaineers  in  the  Feddan  were  going  through  their 
feats  of  wonder-play  before  a  multitude  of  excited 
spectators.  Two  tribes,  mounted  on  wild  barbs,  were 
charging  in  line  from  opposite  sides  of  the  square, 
some  seated,  some  kneeling,  some  standing.  Midway 
across  the  market-place  they  were  charging,  horses 
at  full  gallop,  firing  their  muskets,  then  reining  in  at 
a  horse's  length,  throwing  their  barbs  on  their 
haunches,  wheeling  round  and  galloping  back,  amid 
deafening  shouts  of  "Allah!  Allah!  Allah!" 

"Allah  indeed!"  cried  the  Mahdi,  striding  into 
their  midst  without  fear.  "  That  is  all  the  part  that 
God  plays  in  this  land  of  iniquity  and  bloodshed. 
Away,  away!  " 

The  people  separated,  and  the  Mahdi  turned  to- 
wards the  Kasbah.  As  he  approached  it,  the  lanes 
leading  to  the  Feddan  were  being  cleared  for  the 
mad  antics  of  the  Ai'ssawa.  Before  they  saw  him 
the  fanatics  came  out  in  all  the  force  of  their  acting 
brotherhood,  a  score  of  half-naked  men,  and  one 
other  entirely  naked,  attended  by  their  high-priests, 
the  Mukaddameen,  three  old  patriarchs  with  long 
white  beards,  wearing  dark  flowing  robes  and  carry- 
ing torches.  Then  goats  and  dogs  were  riven  alive 
and  eaten  raw;  while  women  and  children,  crouch- 
ing in  the  gathering  darkness  overhead,  looked  down 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  MAHDI.  317 

from  the  roofs  and  shuddered.  And  as  the  frenzy 
increased  among  the  madmen,  and  their  victims  be- 
came fewer,  each  fanatic  turned  upon  himself,  and 
tore  his  own  skin  and  battered  his  head  against  the 
stones  until  blood  ran  like  water. 

"Fools  and  blind  guides!"  cried  the  Mahdi, 
sweeping  them  before  him  like  sheep.  "  Is  this  how 
you  turn  the  streets  into  a  sickening  sewer?  Oh, 
the  abomination  of  desolation!  You  tear  yourselves 
in  the  name  of  God,  but  forget  His  justice  and 
mercy.  Away!  You  will  have  your  reward.  Away! 
Away!  " 

At  the  gate  of  the  Kasbah  he  demanded  to  see 
the  Kaid,  and,  after  various  parleyings  with  the 
guards  and  negroes  who  haunted  the  winding  ways 
of  the  gloomy  place,  he  was  introduced  to  the  Basha's 
presence.  The  Basha  received  him  in  a  room  so  dark 
that  he  could  but  dimly  see  his  face.  Ben  Aboo  was 
stretched  on  a  carpet,  in  much  the  position  of  a  dog 
with  his  muzzle  on  his  forepaws. 

"  Welcome,"  he  said  gruffly,  and  without  chang- 
ing his  own  unceremonious  posture,  he  gave  the 
Mahdi  a  signal  to  sit. 

The  Mahdi  did  not  sit.  "Ben  Aboo,"  he  said 
in  a  voice  that  was  half  choked  with  anger,  "  I  have 
come  again  on  an  errand  of  mercy,  and  woe  to  you 
if  you  send  me  away  unsatisfied." 

Ben  Aboo  lay  silent  and  gloomy  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said  with  a  growl,  "  What  is  it  now  ?  " 

"Where  is  the  daughter  of  Ben  Oliel?"  said  the 
Mahdi. 

With  a  gesture  of  protestation  the  Basha  waved 
one  of  the  hands  on  winch  hi6  dusky  muzzle  had 
rested. 


318  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

"  Ah,  do  not  lie  to  me,"  cried  the  Mahdi.  "  I 
know  where  she  is — she  is  in  prison.  And  for  what? 
For  no  fault  but  love  of  her  father,  and  no  crime 
but  fidelity  to  her  faith.  She  has  sacrificed  the  one 
and  abandoned  the  other.  Is  that  not  enough  for 
you,  Ben  Aboo?     Set  her  free." 

The  Basha  listened  at  first  with  a  look  of  be- 
wilderment, and  some  half-dozen  armed  attendants 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  shuffled  about  in  their 
consternation.  At  length  Ben  Aboo  raised  his  head, 
and  said  with  an  air  of  mock  inquiry,  "  Ya  Allah! 
who  is  this  infidel?  " 

Then,  changing  his  tone  suddenly,  he  cried,  "  Sir, 
I  know  who  you  are!  You  come  to  me  on  this  sham 
errand  about  the  girl,  but  that  is  not  your  purpose, 
Mohammed  of  Mcquinez !  Mohammed  the  Third ! 
What  fool  said  you  were  a  spy  of  the  Sultan?  Abd  er- 
Eahman  is  here — my  guest  and  protector.  You  are  a 
spy  of  his  enemies,  and  a  revolutionary,  come  hither 
to  ruin  our  religion  and  our  State.  The  penalty  for 
such  as  you  is  death,  and  by  Allah  you  shall  die!  " 

Saying  this,  he  so  wrought  upon  his  indignation, 
that  in  spite  of  his  superstitious  fears,  and  the  awe 
in  which  he  stood  of  the  Mahdi,  he  half  deceived 
himself,  and  deceived  his  attendants  entirely.  But 
the  Mahdi  took  a  step  nearer  and  looked  straight  into 
his  face,  and  said — 

"  Ben  Aboo,  ask  pardon  of  God;  you  are  a  fool. 
You  talk  of  putting  me  to  death.  You  dare  not  and 
you  cannot  do  it." 

"Why  not?"  cried  Ben  Aboo,  with  a  thrill  of 
voice  that  was  like  a  swagger.  "What's  to  hinder 
me?  I  could  do  it  at  this  moment,  and  no  man  need 
know." 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  MAHDI.  319 

"  Basha,"  said  the  Mahdi,  "  do  you  think  you  are 
talking  to  a  child?  Do  you  think  that  when  I  came 
here  my  visit  was  not  known  to  others  than  ourselves 
outside?  Do  you  think  there  are  not  some  who  are 
waiting  for  my  return?  And  do  you  think,  too/'  he 
cried,  lifting  one  hand  and  his  voice  together,  "  that 
my  Master  in  heaven  would  not  see  and  know  if  on  an 
errand  of  mercy  His  servant  perished?  Ben  Aboo, 
ask  pardon  of  God,  I  say;  you  are  a  fool." 

The  Basha's  face  became  black  and  swelled  with 
rage.  But  he  was  cowed.  He  hesitated  a  moment 
in  silence,  and  then  said  with  an  air  of  braggadocio — 

"  And  what  if  I  do  not  liberate  the  girl?  " 

"  Then,"  said  the  Mahdi,  "  if  any  evil  befalls  her 
the  consequences  shall  be  on  your  head." 

"  What  consequences?  "  said  the  Basha. 

"  Worse  consequences  than  you  expect  or  dream," 
said  the  Mahdi. 

"  What  consequences?  "  said  the  Basha  again. 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  Mahdi.  "  You  are  walk- 
ing in  darkness,  and  do  not  know  where  you  are 
going." 

"What  consequences?"  the  Basha  cried  once 
more. 

"  That  is  God's  secret,"  said  the  Mahdi. 

Ben  Aboo  began  to  laugh.  "  Light  the  infidel 
out  of  the  Kasbah,"  he  shouted  to  his  people. 

"  Enough!  "  cried  the  Mahdi.  "  I  have  delivered 
my  message.  Now  woe  to  you,  Ben  Aboo!  A  sec- 
ond time  I  have  come  to  you  as  a  witness,  but  I 
will  come  no  more.  Fill  up  the  measure  of  your 
iniquity.  Keep  the  girl  in  prison.  Give  her  to  the 
Sultan.  But  know  that  for  all  these  things  your 
reward  awaits  you.     Your  time  is  near.     You  will 


320  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

die  with  a  pale  face.  The  sword  will  reach  to  your 
soul." 

Then  taking  yet  another  step  nearer,  until  he 
stood  over  the  Basha,  where  he  lay  on  the  ground, 
he  cried  with  sudden  passion,  "  This  is  the  last  word 
that  will  pass  between  you  and  me.  So  part  we  now 
for  ever,  Ben  Aboo — I  to  the  work  that  waits  for 
me,  and  you  to  shame  and  contempt,  and  death  and 
hell." 

Saying  this,  he  made  a  downward  sweep  of  his 
open  hand  over  the  place  where  the  Basha  lay,  and 
Ben  Aboo  shrank  under  it  as  a  worm  shrinks  under  a 
blow.  Then  with  head  erect  he  went  out  unhin- 
dered. 

But  he  was  not  yet  done.  In  the  garden  of  the 
palace,  as  he  passed  through  it  to  the  street,  he  stood 
a  moment  in  the  darkness  under  the  stars  before  the 
chamber  where  he  knew  the  Sultan  lay,  and  cried, 
"Abd  er-Rahman!  Abd  er-Rahman!  slave  of  the 
Merciful!  Listen:  I  hear  the  sound  of  the  trumpet 
and  the  alarum  of  war.  My  heart  makes  a  noise  in 
me  for  my  country,  but  the  day  of  her  tribulation  is 
near.  Woe  to  you,  Abd  er-Rahman!  You  have 
filled  up  the  measure  of  your  fathers.  Woe  to  you, 
slave  of  the  Compassionate!  " 

The  Sultan  heard  him,  and  so  did  the  Ministers 
of  State;  the  women  of  the  hareem  heard  him,  and 
so  did  the  civil  guards  and  the  soldiers.  But  his 
voice  and  his  message  came  over  them  with  the  terror 
of  a  ghostly  thing,  and  no  man  raised  a  hand  to 
stop  him. 

"  The  Mahdi,"  they  whispered  with  awe,  and  fell 
back  when  he  approached. 

The  streets  were  quiet  as  he  left  the  Kasbah. 


THE  COMING  OP  THE  MAHDI.  321 

The  rabble  of  mountaineers  of  Aissawa  were  gone. 
Hooded  Talebs,  with  prayer-mats  under  their  arms, 
were  picking  their  way  in  the  gloom  from  the  various 
mosques:  and  from  these  there  came  out  into  the 
streets  the  plash  of  water  in  the  porticos  and  the  low 
drone  of  singing  voices  behind  the  screens. 

The  Mahdi  lodged  that  night  in  the  quarter  of 
the  enclosure  called  the  M'Salla,  and  there  a  slave 
woman  of  Ben  Aboo's  came  to  him  in  secret.  It 
was  Fatimah,  and  she  told  him  much  of  her  late 
master,  whom  she  had  visited  by  stealth,  and  just 
left  in  great  trouble  and  in  madness;  also  of  her  dead 
mistress,  Kuth,  who  was  like  rose-perfume  in  her 
memory,  as  well  as  of  Naomi,  their  daughter,  and  all 
her  sufferings.  In  spasms,  in  gasps,  without  se- 
quence and  without  order,  she  told  her  story;  but  he 
listened  to  her  with  emotion  while  the  agitated  black 
face  was  before  him,  and  when  it  was  gone  he 
tramped  the  dark  house  in  the  dead  of  night,  a  silent 
man,  with  tender  thoughts  of  the  sweet  girl  who  was 
imprisoned  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Kasbah,  and  of 
her  stricken  father,  who  supposed  that  she  was  liv- 
ing in  luxury  in  the  palace  of  his  enemy  while  he 
himself  lay  sick  in  the  poor  hut  which  had  been  their 
home.  These  false  notions,  which  were  at  once  the 
seed  and  the  fruit  of  Israel's  madness,  should  at 
least  be  dispelled.  Let  come  what  would,  the  man 
should  neither  live  nor  die  in  such  bitterness  of  cruel 
error. 

The  Mahdi  resolved  to  set  out  for  Semsa  with  the 
first  grey  of  morning,  and  meantime  he  went  up  to 
the  house-top  to  sleep.  The  town  was  quiet,  the 
traffic  of  the  street  was  done,  the  raggabash  of  the 
Sultan's  following  had  slunk  away  ashamed  or  lain 


322  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

down  to  rest.  It  was  a  wonderful  night.  The  air 
was  cool,  for  the  year  was  deep  towards  winter,  hut 
not  a  breath  of  wind  was  stirring,  and  the  orange- 
gardens  behind  the  town  wall  did  not  send  over  the 
river  so  much  as  the  whisper  of  a  leaf.  Stars  were 
out,  and  the  big  moon  of  the  East  shone  white  on 
the  white  walls  and  minarets.  Nowhere  is  night  so 
full  of  the  spirit  of  sleep  as  in  an  Eastern  city.  Be- 
low, under  the  moonlight,  lay  the  square  white  roofs, 
and  between  them  were  the  dark  streets  going  in  and 
out,  trailing  through  and  along,  like  to  narrow 
streams  of  black  water  in  a  bed  of  quarried  chalk. 
Here  or  there,  where  a  belated  townsman  lit  himself 
homeward  with  a  lamp,  a  red  light  gleamed  out  of 
one  of  the  thin  darknesses,  crept  along  a  few  paces, 
and  then  was  gone.  Sometimes  a  clamour  of  voices 
came  up  with  their  own  echo  from  some  unseen  place, 
and  again  everything  was  still.  Sleep,  sleep,  all  was 
sleep. 

"  0  Tetuan,"  thought  the  Mahdi,  "  how  soon  will 
your  streets  be  uprooted  and  your  sanctuaries  de- 
stroyed! " 

The  Mooddin  was  chanting  the  call  to  prayers, 
and  the  old  porter  at  the  gate  was  muttering  over 
his  rosary  as  the  Mahdi  left  the  town  in  the  dawn. 
He  had  to  pick  his  way  among  the  soldiers  who  were 
lying  on  the  bare  soil  outside,  uncovered  to  the  sky. 
Not  one  of  them  seemed  to  be  awake.  Even  their 
camels  were  still  sleeping,  nose  to  nose,  in  the  circles 
where  they  had  last  fed.  Only  their  mules  and  asses, 
all  hobbled  and  still  saddled,  were  up  and  feeding. 

The  Mahdi  found  Israel  ben  Oliel  in  the  hut  at 
Semsa.  So  poor  a  place  he  had  not  seen  in  all  his 
wanderings  through  that  abject  land.     Its  walls  were 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  MAHDI.  323 

of  clay  that  was  bulged  and  cracked,  and  its  roof 
was  of  rushes,  which  lay  over  it  like  sea-wreck  on  a 
broken  barrel.  Israel  was  in  his  right  mind.  He 
was  sitting  by  the  door  of  his  house,  with  a  dejected 
air,  a  hopeless  look,  but  the  slow  sad  eyes  of  reason. 
His  clothing  was  one  worn  and  torn  kaftan;  his  feet 
were  shoeless,  and  his  head  was  bare.  But  so  grand 
a  head  the  Mahdi  thought  he  had  never  beheld  be- 
fore. Not  until  then  had  he  truly  seen  him,  for  the 
poverty  and  misery  that  sat  on  him  only  made  his 
face  stand  out  the  clearer.  It  was  the  face  of  a  man 
who  for  good  or  ill,  for  struggle  or  submission,  had 
walked  and  wrestled  with  God. 

With  salutations,  barely  returned  to  him,  the 
Mahdi  sat  down  beside  Israel  at  a  little  distance. 
He  began  to  speak  to  him  in  a  tender  way,  telling 
him  who  he  was,  and  where  they  had  met  before,  and 
why  he  came,  and  whither  he  was  going.  And  Israel 
listened  to  him  at  first  with  a  brave  show  of  compos- 
ure, as  if  the  very  heart  of  the  man  were  a  frozen 
clod,  whereby  his  eyes  and  the  muscles  of  his  face 
and  even  the  nerves  of  his  fingers  were  also  frozen. 

Then  the  Mahdi  spoke  of  Naomi,  and  Israel  made 
a  slow  shake  of  the  head.  He  told  him  what  had 
happened  to  her  when  her  father  was  taken  to  prison, 
and  Israel  listened  with  a  great  outward  calmness. 
After  that  he  described  the  girl's  journey  in  the  hope 
of  taking  food  to  him,  and  how  she  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Habeebah;  and  then  he  saw  by  Israel's  face 
that  the  affection  of  the  father  was  tearing  his  old 
heart  woefully.  At  last  he  recited  the  incidents  of 
her  cruel  trial,  and  how  she  had  yielded  at  length, 
knowing  nothing  of  religion,  being  only  a  child,  see- 
ing her  father  in  everything  and  thinking  to  save 
22 


324  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

his  life,  though  she  herself  must  see  him  no  more  (for 
all  this  he  had  gathered  from  Fatimah),  and  then  the 
great  thaw  came  to  Israel,  and  his  fingers  trembled, 
and  his  face  twitched,  and  the  hot  tears  rained  down 
his  cheeks. 

"  My  poor  darling!  "  he  muttered  in  a  trembling 
undertone,  and  then  he  asked  in  a  faltering  voice 
where  she  was  at  that  time. 

The  Mahdi  told  him  that  she  was  back  in  prison, 
for  rebelling  against  the  fortune  intended  for  her — 
that  of  becoming  a  concubine  of  the  Sultan. 

"  My  brave  girl!  "  he  muttered,  and  then  his  face 
shone  with  a  new  light  that  was  both  pride  and  pain. 

He  lifted  his  eyes  as  if  he  could  see  her,  and  his 
voice  as  if  she  could  hear:  "  Forgive  me,  Naomi! 
Forgive  me,  my  poor  child!  Your  weak  old  father; 
forgive  him,  my  brave,  brave  daughter! '; 

This  was  as  much  as  the  Mahdi  could  bear;  and 
when  Israel  turned  to  him,  and  said  in  almost  a 
childish  tone,  "  I  suppose  there  is  no  help  for  it  now, 
sir.  I  meant  to  take  her  to  England — to  my  poor 
mother's  home,  but " 

"  And  so  vou  shall,  as  sure  as  the  Lord  lives," 
said  the  Mahdi,  rising  to  his  feet,  with  the  resolve 
that  a  plan  for  Naomi's  rescue  which  he  had  thought 
of  again  and  again,  and  more  than  once  rejected, 
which  had  clamoured  at  the  door  "of  his  heart,  and 
been  turned  away  as  a  barbarous  impulse,  should  at 
length  be  carried  into  effect. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ALI'S  RETURN  TO  TETUAN. 

The  plan  which  the  Mahdi  thought  of  had  first 
been  Ali's,  for  the  black  lad  was  back  in  Tetuan. 
After  he  had  fulfilled  his  errand  of  mercy  at  Shawan, 
he  had  gone  on  to  Ceuta;  and  there  with  a  spirit 
afire  for  the  wrongs  of  his  master,  from  whom  he  was 
so  cruelly  parted,  he  had  set  himself  with  shrewdness 
and  daring  to  incite  the  Spanish  powers  to  vengeance 
upon  his  master's  enemies.  This  had  been  a  task 
very  easy  of  execution,  for  just  at  that  time  intelli- 
gence had  come  from  the  Reef,  of  barbarous  raids 
made  by  Ben  Aboo  upon  mountain  tribes  that  had 
hitherto  offered  allegiance  to  the  Spanish  crown.  A 
mission  had  gone  up  to  Fez,  and  returned  unsatis- 
fied. War  was  to  be  declared,  Marteel  was  to  be 
bombarded,  the  army  of  Marshal  O'Donnel  was  to 
come  up  the  valley  of  the  river,  and  Tetuan  was  to  be 
taken. 

Such  were  the  operations  which  by  the  whim  of 
fate  had  been  so  strangely  revealed  to  Ali,  but  Ali's 
own  plan  was  a  different  matter.  This  was  the  feast 
of  the  Moolood,  and  on  one  of  the  nights  of  it,  prob- 
ably the  eighth  night,  the  last  night,  Friday  night, 
Ben  Aboo  the  Basha  was  to  give  a  "  gathering  of 
delight "  to  the  Sultan,  his  Ministers,  his  Kaids,  his 
Kadis,  his  Khaleefas,  his  Umana,  and  great  rascals 

325 


326  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

generally.  Ali's  stout  heart  stuck  at  nothing.  He 
was  for  having  the  Spaniards  brought  up  to  the  gates 
of  the  town  on  the  very  night  when  the  whole  maj- 
esty and  iniquity  of  Barbary  would  be  gathered  in  one 
room;  then,  locking  the  entire  kennel  of  dogs  in  the 
banqueting  hall,  firing  the  Kasbah  and  burning  it  to 
the  ground,  with  all  the  Moorish  tyrants  inside  of  it 
like  rats  in  a  trap. 

One  danger  attended  his  bold  adventure,  for 
Naomi's  person  was  within  the  Kasbah  walls.  To 
meet  this  peril  AH  was  himself  to  find  his  way  into 
the  dungeon,  deliver  Naomi,  lock  the  Kasbah  gate, 
and  deliver  up  to  another  the  key  that  should  serve 
as  a  signal  for  the  beginning  of  the  great  night's  work. 

Also  one  difficulty  attended  it,  for  while  Ali 
would  be  at  the  Kasbah  there  would  be  no  one  to 
bring  up  the  Spaniards  at  the  proper  moment  for 
the  siege — no  one  in  Tetuan  on  whom  the  strangers 
could  rely  not  to  lead  them  blindfold  into  a  trap. 
To  meet  this  difficulty  Ali  had  gone  in  search  of  the 
Mahdi,  revealed  to  him  his  plan,  and  asked  him  to 
help  in  the  downfall  of  his  master's  enemies  by  lead- 
ing the  Spaniards  at  the  right  moment  to  the  gates 
tbat  should  be  thrown  open  to  receive  them. 

Hearing  Ali's  story,  the  Mahdi  had  been  aflame 
with  tender  thoughts  of  Naomi's  trials,  with  hatred 
of  Ben  Aboo's  tyrannies,  and  pity  of  Israel's  mis- 
eries. But  at  first  his  humanity  had  withheld  him 
from  sympathy  with  Ali's  dark  purpose,  so  full,  as  it 
seemed,  of  barbarity  and  treachery. 

"Ali,"  he  had  said,  "is  it  not  all  you  wish  for 
to  get  Naomi  out  of  prison  and  take  her  back  to  her 
father?" 

"  Yes,  Sidi,"  Ali  had  answered  promptly. 


ALI'S  RETURN  TO  TETUAN.       327 

"  And  you  don't  want  to  torture  these  tyrants  if 
you  can  do  what  you  desire  without  it?  " 

"  No-o,  Sidi,"  Ah  had  said  doubtfully. 

"  Then,"  the  Mahdi  had  said,  "  let  us  try." 

But  when  the  Mahdi  was  gone  to  Tetuan  on  his 
errand  of  warning  that  proved  so  vain,  Ali  had  crept 
back  behind  him,  so  that  secretly  and  independently 
he  might  carry  out  his  fell  design.  The  townspeople 
were  ready  to  receive  him,  for  the  air  was  full  of  re- 
bellion, and  many  had  waited  long  for  the  opportu- 
nity of  revenge.  To  certain  of  the  Jews,  his  master's 
people,  who  were  also  in  effect  his  own,  he  went  first 
with  his  mission,  and  they  listened  with  eagerness 
to  what  he  had  come  to  say.  When  their  own  time 
came  to  speak  they  spoke  cautiously,  after  the  man- 
ner of  their  race,  and  nervously,  like  men  who  knew 
too  well  what  it  was  to  be  crushed  and  kept  under; 
but  they  gave  their  help  notwithstanding,  and  Ali's 
scheme  progressed. 

In  less  than  three  days  the  entire  town,  Moorish 
and  Jewish,  was  honeycombed  with  subterranean  re- 
volt. Even  the  civil  guard,  the  soldiers  of  the  Kas- 
bah,  the  black  police  that  kept  the  gates,  and  the 
slaves  that  stood  before  the  Basha's  table,  were  wait- 
ing for  the  downfall  that  was  to  come. 

The  Mahdi  had  gone  again  by  this  time,  and  the 
people  had  resumed  their  mock  rejoicings  over  the 
Sultan's  visit.  These  were  the  last  kindlings  of  their 
burnt-out  loyalty,  a  poor  smouldering  pretence  of 
fire.  Every  morning  the  town  was  awakened  by  the 
deafening  crackle  of  flintlocks,  which  the  mountain- 
eers discharged  in  the  Feddan  by  way  of  signal  that 
the  Sultan  was  going  to  say  his  prayers  at  the  door 
of  some  saint's  house.      Beside  the  firing  of  long 


328  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

guns  and  the  twanging  of  the  ginbri  the  chief  busi- 
ness of  the  day  seemed  to  be  begging.  One  bow- 
legged  rascal  in  a  ragged  jellab  went  about  constantly 
with  a  little  loaf  of  bread,  crying,  "  An  ounce  of  but- 
ter for  God's  sake!"  and  when  some  one  gave  him 
the  alms  he  asked  he  stuck  the  white  sprawling  mess 
on  the  top  of  the  loaf  and  changed  his  cry  to  "  An 
ounce  of  cheese  for  God's  sake!  "  A  pert  little  vaga- 
bond— street  Arab  in  a  double  sense — promenaded 
the  town  barefoot,  carrying  an  odd  slipper  in  his 
hand,  and  calling  on  all  men  by  the  love  of  God  and 
the  face  of  God  and  the  sake  of  God  to  give  him  a 
moozoonah  towards  the  cost  of  its  fellow.  Every 
morning  the  Sultan  went  to  mosque  under  his  red 
umbrella,  and  every  evening  he  sat  in  the  hall  of  the 
court  of  justice,  pretending  to  hear  the  petitions  of 
the  poor,  but  actually  dispensing  charms  in  return 
for  presents.  First  an  old  wrinkled  reprobate  with 
no  life  left  in  him  but  the  life  of  lust:  "  A  charm 
to  make  my  young  wife  love  me!  "  Then  an  ill- 
favoured  hag  behind  a  blanket:  "  A  charm  to  wither 
the  face  of  the  woman  that  my  husband  has  taken  in- 
stead of  me! "  Again,  a  young  wife  with  a  tearful 
voice:  "A  charm  to  make  me  bear  children!"  A 
greasy  smile  from  the  fat  Sultan,  a  scrap  of  writing 
to  every  supplicant,  chinking  coins  dropped  into  the 
bag  of  the  attendant  from  the  treasury,  and  then  up 
and  away.  It  was  a  nauseous  draught  from  the  bit- 
terest waters  of  Islam. 

But,  for  all  the  religious  tumult,  no  man  was  de- 
ceived by  the  outward  marks  of  devotion.  At  the 
corners  of  the  streets,  on  the  Feddan,  by  the  foun- 
tains, wherever  men  could  meet  and  talk  unheard, 
there  they  stood  in  little  groups,  crossing  their  fore- 


ALI'S  RETURN  TO  TETUAN.       329 

fingers,  the  sign  of  strife,  or  rubbing  them  side  by 
side,  the  sign  of  amity.  It  was  clear  that,  notwith- 
standing the  hubbub  of  their  loyalty  to  the  Sultan, 
they  knew  that  the  Spaniard  was  coming  and  were 
glad  of  it. 

Meantime  Ali  waited  with  impatience  for  the  day 
that  was  to  see  the  end  of  his  enterprise.  To  be- 
guile himself  of  his  nervousness  in  the  night,  during 
the  dark  hours  that  trailed  on  to  morning,  he  would 
venture  out  of  the  lodging  where  he  lay  in  hiding 
throughout  the  day,  and  pick  his  steps  in  the  silence 
up  the  winding  streets,  until  he  came  under  a  narrow 
opening  in  an  alley  which  was  the  only  window  to 
Naomi's  prison.  And  there  he  would  stay  the  long 
dark  hours  through,  as  if  he  thought  that  besides 
the  comfort  it  brought  to  him  to  be  near  to  Naomi, 
the  tramp,  tramp,  tramp  of  his  footsteps,  which  once 
or  twice  provoked  the  challenge  of  the  night-guard 
on  his  lonely  round,  would  be  company  to  her  in  her 
solitude.  And  sometimes,  watching  his  opportunity 
that  he  might  be  unseen  and  unheard,  he  would  creep 
in  the  darkness  under  the  window  and  cry  up  the 
wall  in  an  underbreath,  "Naomi!  Naomi!  It  is  I, 
Ali!    I  have  come  back!    All  will  be  well  yet!  " 

Then  if  he  heard  nothing  from  within  he  would 
torture  himself  with  a  hundred  fears  lest  Naomi 
should  be  no  longer  there,  but  in  a  worse  place;  and 
if  he  heard  a  sob  he  would  slink  away  like  a  dog  with 
his  muzzle  to  the  dust,  and  if  he  heard  his  own 
name  echoed  in  the  softer  voice  he  knew  so  well  he 
would  go  off  with  head  erect,  feeling  like  a  man 
who  walked  on  the  stars  rather  than  the  stones  of 
the  streets.  But,  whatever  befell,  before  the  day 
dawned  he  went  back  to  his  lodging  less  sore  at 


330  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

heart  for  his  lonely  vigil,  but  not  less  wrathful  or 
resolute. 

The  day  of  the  feast  came  at  length,  and  then 
Ali's  impatience  rose  to  fever.  All  day  he  longed 
for  the  night,  that  the  thing  he  had  to  do  could  be 
done.  At  last  the  sunset  came  and  the  darkness  fell, 
and  from  his  place  of  concealment  Ali  saw  the  sol- 
diers of  the  Assaseen  going  through  the  streets  with 
lanterns  to  lead  honoured  guests  to  the  banquet. 
Then  he  set  out  on  his  errand.  His  foresight  and  wit 
had  arranged  everything.  The  negro  at  the  gate  of 
the  Kasbah  pretended  to  recognise  him  as  a  messen- 
ger of  the  Vizier's,  and  passed  him  through.  He 
pushed  his  way  as  one  with  authority  along  the  wind- 
ing passages  to  the  garden  where  the  Mahdi  had 
called  on  Abd  er-Rahman  and  foretold  his  fate.  The 
garden  opened  upon  the  great  hall,  and  a  number  of 
guests  were  standing  there,  cooling  themselves  in  the 
night  air  while  they  waited  for  the  arrival  of  the 
Sultan.  His  Shereefian  Majesty  came  at  length,  and 
then,  amid  salaams  and  peace-blessings,  the  company 
passed  in  to  the  banquet.  "  Peace  on  you!  "  "  And 
on  you  the  peace!  "  "  God  make  your  evening! ': 
"May  your  evening  be  blessed!" 

Did  Ali  shrink  from  the  task  at  that  moment? 
No,  a  thousand  times  no!  While  he  looked  on  at 
these  men  in  their  muslin  and  gauze  and  linen  and 
scarlet,  sweeping  in  with  bows  and  hand-touchings 
to  sup  and  to  laugh  and  to  tell  their  pretty  stories,  he 
remembered  Israel  broken  and  alone  in  the  poor  hut 
which  had  been  described  to  him,  and  Naomi  lying 
in  her  damp  cell  beyond  the  wall. 

Some  minutes  he  stood  in  the  darkness  of  the  gar- 
den, while  the  guests  entered,  and  until  the  bare- 


ALFS  RETURN  TO  TETUAN.  331 

footed  servants  of  the  kitchen  began  to  troop  in  after 
them  with  great  dishes  under  huge  covers.  Then  he 
held  a  short  parley  with  the  negro  gatekeeper,  two 
keys  were  handed  to  him,  and  in  another  minute  he 
was  standing  at  the  door  of  Naomi's  prison. 

Now,  carefully  as  Ali  had  arranged  every  detail 
of  his  enterprise,  down  to  the  removal  of  the  black 
woman  Habeebah  from  this  door,  one  fact  he  had 
never  counted  with,  and  that  seemed  to  him  then 
the  chief  fact  of  all — the  fact  that  since  he  had  last 
looked  upon  Naomi  she  had  come  by  the  gift  of  sight, 
and  would  now  first  look  upon  him.  That  he  would 
be  the  same  as  a  stranger  to  her,  and  would  have  to 
tell  her  who  he  was;  that  she  would  have  to  recognise 
him  by  whatsoever  means  remained  to  belie  the  evi- 
dence of  the  newborn  sense — this  was  the  least  of 
Ali's  trouble.  By  a  swift  rebound  his  heart  went 
back  to  the  fear  that  had  haunted  him  in  the  days 
before  he  left  her  with  her  father  on  his  errand  to 
Shawan.     He  was  black,  and  she  would  see  him. 

With  the  gliding  of  the  key  into  the  lock  all  this, 
and  more  than  this,  flashed  upon  his  mind.  His 
shame  was  abject.  It  cut  him  to  the  quick.  On  the 
other  side  of  that  door  was  she  who  had  been  as  a 
sister  to  him  since  times  that  were  lost  in  the  blue 
clouds  of  childhood.  She  had  played  with  him  and 
slept  by  his  side,  yet  she  had  never  seen  his  face. 
And  she  was  fair  as  the  morning,  and  he  was  black 
as  the  night!  He  had  come  to  deliver  her.  Would 
she  recoil  from  him? 

Ali  had  to  struggle  with  himself  not  to  fly  away 
and  leave  everything.  But  his  stout  heart  remem- 
bered itself  and  held  to  its  purpose.  "  What  mat- 
ter?" he  thought.     "What  matter  about  me?"  he 


332  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

asked  himself  aloud  in  a  shrill  voice  and  with  a 
brave  roll  of  his  round  head.  Then  he  found  him- 
self inside  the  cell. 

The  place  was  dark,  and  Ali  drew  a  long  breath  of 
relief.  Naomi  must  have  been  lying  at  the  farther 
end  of  it.  She  spoke  when  the  door  was  opened.  As 
though  by  habit,  she  framed  the  name  of  her  jailer 
Habeebah,  and  then  stopped  with  a  nervous  little 
cry  and  seemed  to  rise  to  her  feet.  In  his  confusion 
Ali  said  simply,  "  It  is  I"  as  though  that  meant 
everything.  Recovering  himself  in  a  moment  he 
spoke  again,  and  then  she  knew  his  voice:  "  Naomi! " 

"  It's  Ali,"  she  whispered  to  herself.  After  that 
she  cried  in  a  trembling  undertone,  "  Ali !  Ali !  Ali !  " 
and  came  straight  in  the  accustomed  darkness  to  the 
spot  where  he  stood. 

Then,  gathering  courage  and  voice  together,  Ali 
told  her  hurriedly  why  he  was  there.  When  he  said 
that  her  father  was  no  longer  in  prison,  but  at  their 
home  near  Semsa,  and  waiting  to  receive  her,  she 
seemed  almost  overcome  by  her  joy.  Half  laughing, 
half  weeping,  clutching  at  her  breast  as  if  to  ease 
the  wild  heaving  of  her  bosom,  she  was  transformed 
by  his  story. 

"Hush!"  said  Ali;  "not  a  sound  until  we  are 
outside  the  town,"  and  Naomi  knitted  her  fingers  in 
his  palm,  and  they  passed  out  of  the  place. 

The  banquet  was  now  at  its  height,  and  hasten- 
ing down  dark  corridors  where  they  were  apt  to  fall, 
for  they  had  no  light  to  see  by,  and  coming  into  the 
garden,  they  heard  the  ripple  and  crackle  of  laughter 
from  the  great  hall  where  Ben  Aboo  and  his  servile 
rascals  feasted  together.  They  reached  the  quiet 
alley  outside  the  Kasbah  (for  the  negro  was  gone  from 


ALTS  RETURN  TO  TETTJAN.  333 

his  post),  and  drew  a  long  breath,  and  thanked 
Heaven  that  this  much  was  over.  There  had  been  no 
group  of  beggars  at  the  gate,  and  the  streets  around 
it  were  deserted;  but  in  the  distance,  far  across 
the  town  in  the  direction  of  the  Bab  el  Marsa,  the 
gate  that  goes  out  to  Marteel,  they  heard  a  low  hum 
as  of  vast  droves  of  sheep.  The  Spaniard  was  com- 
ing, and  the  townsmen  were  going  out  to  meet  him. 
Casual  passers-by  challenged  them,  and  though  Ali 
knew  that  even  if  recognised  they  had  nothing  to  fear 
from  the  people,  yet  more  than  once  his  voice  trem- 
bled when  answering,  and  sometimes  with  a  feeling 
of  dread  he  turned  to  see  that  no  one  was  following. 

As  he  did  so  he  became  aware  of  something 
which  brought  back  the  shame  of  that  awful  moment 
when  he  stood  with  the  key  in  hand  at  the  door  of 
Naomi's  prison.  By  the  light  of  the  lamps  in  the 
hands  of  the  passers-by  Naomi  was  looking  at  him. 
Again  and  again,  as  the  glare  fell  for  an  instant,  he 
felt  the  eyes  of  the  girl  upon  his  face.  At  such  mo- 
ments he  thought  she  must  be  drawing  away  from 
him,  for  the  space  between  them  seemed  wider.  But 
he  held  firmly  to  the  outstretched  arm,  kept  his  head 
aside,  and  hastened  on. 

"What  matter  about  me?"  he  whispered  again. 
But  the  brave  word  brought  him  no  comfort.  "  Now 
she's  looking  at  my  hand,"  he  told  himself,  but  he 
could  not  draw  it  away.  "  She  is  doubting  if  I  am 
Ali  after  all,"  he  thought.  "Naomi!"  he  tried  to 
say  with  averted  head,  so  that  once  again  the  sound 
of  his  voice  might  reassure  her;  but  his  throat  was 
thick,  and  he  could  not  speak.     Still  he  pushed  on. 

The  dark  town  just  then  was  like  a  mountain 
chasm  when  a  storm  that  has  been  gathering  is  about 


334  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

to  break.  In  the  air  a  deep  rumble,  and  then  a  loud 
detonation.  Blackness  overhead,  and  things  around 
that  seemed  to  move  and  pass. 

Drawing  near  to  the  Bab  Toot,  the  gate  that  wit- 
nessed the  last  scene  of  Israel's  humiliation  and 
Naomi's  shame,  Ali,  with  the  girl  beside  him,  came 
suddenly  into  a  sheet  of  light  and  a  concourse  of 
people.  It  was  the  Mahdi  and  his  vast  following, 
with  lamps  in  their  hands,  entering  the  town  on  the 
west,  while  the  Spaniards  whom  they  had  brought  up 
•to  the  gates  were  coming  in  on  the  east.  The  Mahdi 
himself  was  locking  the  synagogues  and  the  sanc- 
tuaries. 

"  Lock  them  up,"  he  was  saying.  "  It  is  enough 
that  the  foreigner  must  burn  down  the  Sodom  of  our 
tyrant;  let  him  not  outrage  the  Zion  of  our  God." 

Ali  led  Naomi  up  to  the  Mahdi,  who  saw  her  then 
for  the  first  time. 

"  I  have  brought  her,"  he  said  breathlessly; 
"  Naomi,  Israel's  daughter,  this  is  she."  And  then 
there  was  a  moment  of  surprise  and  joy,  and  pain 
and  shame  and  despair,  all  gathered  up  together  into 
one  look  of  the  eyes  of  the  three. 

The  Mahdi  looked  at  Naomi,  and  his  face  light- 
ened. Naomi  looked  at  Ali,  and  her  pale  face  grew 
paler,  and  she  passed  a  tress  of  her  fair  hair  across 
her  lips  to  smother  a  little  nervous  cry  that  began 
to  break  from  her  mouth.  Then  she  looked  at  the 
Mahdi,  and  her  lips  parted  and  her  eyes  shone.  Ali 
looked  at  both,  and  his  face  twitched  and  fell. 

This  was  only  the  work  of  an  instant,  but  it  was 
enough.  Enough  for  the  Mahdi,  for  it  told  him  a 
secret  that  the  wisdom  of  life  had  not  yet  revealcl: 
enough  for  Naomi,  for  a  new  sense,  a  sixth  sense,  had 


ALPS  RETURN  TO  TETUAN.       335 

surely  come  to  her;  enough  for  Ali  also,  for  his  big 
little  heart  was  broken. 

"What  matter  about  me?"  thought  Ali  again. 
"  Take  her,  Mahdi,"  he  said  aloud  in  a  shrill  voice. 
"  Her  father  is  waiting  for  her — take  her  to  him." 

"  Lady,"  said  the  Mahdi,  "  can  you  trust  me?  " 

And  then  without  a  word  she  went  to  him;  like 
the  needle  to  the  magnet  she  went  to  the  Mahdi — a 
stranger  to  her,  when  all  strangers  were  as  enemies — 
and  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

Ali  began  to  laugh.  "I'm  a  fool,"  he  cried. 
"Who  could  have  believed  it?  Why,  I've  forgotten 
to  lock  the  Kasbah!  The  villians  will  escape.  No 
matter,  I'll  go  back." 

"  Stop!  "  cried  the  Mahdi. 

But  Ali  laughed  so  loudly  that  he  did  not  hear. 
"  I'll  see  to  it  yet,"  he  cried,  turning  on  his  heel. 
"  Good  night,  Sidi!  God  bless  you!  My  love  to  my 
father!     Farewell! " 

And  in  another  moment  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    FALL    OF    BEN   ABOO. 

The  roysterers  in  the  Kasbah  sat  a  long  half- 
hour  in  ignorance  of  the  doom  that  was  impending. 
Squatting  on  the  floor  in  little  circles,  around  little 
tables  covered  with  steaming  dishes,  wherein  each 
plunged  his  fingers,  they  began  the  feast  with  cere- 
monious wishes,  pious  exclamations,  cant  phrases,  and 
downcast  eyes.  First,  "  God  lengthen  your  age," 
"  God  cover  you,"  and  "  God  give  you  strength." 
Then  a  dish  of  dates,  served  with  abject  apologies 
from  Ben  Aboo:  "  You  would  treat  us  better  in  Fez, 
but  Tetuan  is  poor;  the  means,  Seedna,  the  means, 
not  the  will! "  Then  fish  in  garlic,  eaten  with  loud 
"  Bismillahs."  Then  kesksoo  covered  with  pow- 
dered sugar  and  cinnamon,  and  meat  on  skewers, 
and  browned  fowls,  and  fowls  and  olives,  and  flake 
pastry  and  sponge  fritters,  each  eaten  in  its  turn 
amid  a  chorus  of  "La  Hah  ilia  Allahs."  Finally 
three  cups  of  green  tea,  as  thick  and  sweet  as  syrup, 
drunk  with  many  "Do  me  the  favours,"  and  count- 
less "  Good  lucks."  Last  of  all,  the  washing  of  hands, 
and  the  fumigating  of  garments  and  beard  and  hair 
by  the  live  embers  of  scented  wood  burning  in  a 
brass  censer,  with  incessant  exchanges  of  "  The 
Prophet — God  rest  him — loved  sweet  odours  almost 
as  much  as  sweet  women." 
336 


THE  FALL  OF  BEN  ABOO.       337 

But  after  supper  all  this  ceremony  fell  away,  and 
the  feasters  thawed  down  to  a  warm  and  flowing 
brotherhood.  Lolling  at  ease  on  their  rugs,  trifling 
with  their  egg-like  snuff-boxes,  fumbling  their  rosa- 
ries for  idleness  more  than  piety,  stretching  their 
straps,  and  jingling  on  the  pavement  the  carved  ends 
of  their  silver  knife-shields,  they  laughed  and  jested, 
and  told  dubious  stories,  and  held  doubtful  discourse 
generally.  The  talk  turned  on  the  distinction  be- 
tween great  sins  and  little  ones.  In  the  circle  of 
the  Sultan  it  was  agreed  that  the  great  sins  were 
two:  unbelief  in  the  Prophet,  whereby  a  man  became 
Jew  and  dog;  and  smoking  keel  and  tobacco,  which 
no  man  could  do  and  be  of  correct  life  and  unques- 
tionable Islam.  The  atonement  for  these  great  sins 
were  five  prayers  a  day,  thirty-four  prostrations,  sev- 
enteen chapters  of  the  Koran,  and  as  many  inclina- 
tions. All  the  rest  were  little  sins;  and  as  for  mur- 
der and  adultery,  and  bearing  false  witness — well, 
God  was  Merciful,  God  was  Compassionate,  God  for- 
gave His  poor  weak  children. 

This  led  to  stories  of  the  penalties  paid  by  trans- 
gressors of  the  great  sins.  These  were  terrible. 
Putting  on  a  profound  air,  the  Vizier,  a  fat  man  of 
fifty,  told  of  how  one  who  smoked  tobacco  and  de- 
nied the  Prophet  had  rotted  piecemeal;  and  of  how 
another  had  turned  in  his  grave  with  his  face  from 
Mecca.  Then  the  Kaid  of  Fez,  head  of  the  Mosque 
and  general  Grand  Mufti,  led  away  with  stories  of  the 
little  sins.  These  were  delightful.  They  pictured 
the  shifts  of  pretty  wives,  married  to  worn-out  old 
men,  to  get  at  their  youthful  lovers  in  the  dark  by 
clambering  in  their  dainty  slippers  from  roof  to  roof. 
Also  of  the  discomfiture  of  pious  old  husbands  and 


338  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

the  wicked  triumph  of  rompish  little  ladies,  under 
pretences  of  outraged  innocence. 

Such,  and  worse,  and  of  a  kind  that  bears  not  to 
be  told,  was  the  conversation  after  supper  of  the 
roysterers  in  the  Kasbah.  At  every  fresh  story  the 
laughter  became  louder,  and  soon  the  reserve  and 
dignity  of  the  Moor  were  left  behind  and  forgotten. 
At  length  Ben  Aboo,  encouraged  by  the  Sultan's 
good  fellowship,  broke  into  loud  praises  of  Naomi, 
and  yet  louder  wails  over  the  doom  that  must  be  the 
penalty  of  her  apostasy;  and  thereupon  Abd  er-Rah- 
man,  protesting  that  for  his  part  he  wanted  nothing 
with  such  a  vixen,  called  on  him  to  uncover  her 
boasted  charms  to  them.  "  Bring  her  here,  Basha," 
he  said;  "let  us  see  her;"  and  this  command  was 
received  with  tumultuous  acclamations. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  In  less  than  a 
minute  more,  while  the  rascals  lolled  over  the  floor 
in  half  a  hundred  different  postures,  with  the  hazy 
lights  from  the  brass  lamps  and  the  glass  candelabras 
on  their  dusky  faces,  their  gleaming  teeth,  and  dan- 
cing eyes,  the  messenger  who  had  been  sent  for 
Naomi  came  back  with  the  news  that  she  was  gone. 
Then  Ben  Aboo  rose  in  silent  consternation,  but  his 
guests  only  laughed  the  louder,  until  a  second  mes- 
senger, a  soldier  of  the  guard,  came  running  with 
more  startling  news.  Marteel  had  been  bombarded 
by  the  Spaniards;  the  army  of  Marshal  O'Donnel 
was  under  the  walls  of  Tetuan,  and  their  own  people 
were  opening  the  gates  to  him. 

The  tumult  and  confusion  which  followed  upon 
this  announcement  does  not  need  to  be  detailed. 
Shoutings  for  the  mkhaznia,  infuriated  commands  to 
the  guards,  racings  to  the  stables  and  to  the  Kasbah 


THE  PALL  OF  BEN  ABOO.       339 

yard,  unhobbling  of  horses,  stamping  and  clattering 
of  hoofs,  and  scurrying  through  dark  corridors  of 
men  carrying  torches  and  flares.  There  was  no  at- 
tempt at  resistance.  That  was  seen  to  be  useless. 
Both  the  civil  guard  and  the  soldiery  had  deserted. 
The  Kasbah  was  betrayed.  Terror  spread  like  fire. 
In  very  little  time  the  Sultan  and  his  company,  with 
their  women  and  eunuchs,  were  gone  from  the  town 
through  the  straggling  multitude  of  their  disorderly 
and  dissolute  and  worthless  soldiery  lying  asleep  on 
the  southern  side  of  it. 

Ben  Aboo  did  not  fly  with  Abd  er-Rahman.  He 
remembered  that  he  had  treasure,  and  as  soon  as 
he  was  alone  he  went  in  search  of  it.  There  were 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  sweat  of  the  life-blood  of  in- 
nocent people.  No  one  knew  the  strong-room  except 
himself,  for  with  his  own  hand  he  had  killed  the 
mason  who  built  it.  In  the  dark  he  found  the  place, 
and  taking  bags  in  both  his  hands  and  hiding  them 
under  the  folds  of  his  selham,  he  tried  to  escape  from 
the  Kasbah  unseen. 

It  was  too  late;  the  Spanish  soldiers  were  com- 
ing up  the  arcades,  and  Ben  Aboo,  with  his  money- 
bags, took  refuge  in  a  granary  underground,  near 
the  wall  of  the  Kasbah  gate.  From  that  dark  cell, 
crouching  on  the  grain,  which  was  alive  with  vermin, 
he  listened  in  terror  to  the  sounds  of  the  night. 
First  the  galloping  of  horses  on  the  courtyard  over- 
head; then  the  furious  shouts  of  the  soldiers,  and, 
finally,  the  mad  cries  of  the  crowd.  "  Damn  it — 
they've  given  us  the  slip."  "  Yes;  they've  crawled 
off  like  rats  from  a  sinking  ship."  "  Curse  it  all, 
it's  only  a  bungle."     This  in  the  Spanish  tongue; 

and  then  in  the  tongue  of  his  own  country  Ben  Aboo 
23 


340  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

heard  the  guttural  shouts  of  his  own  people:  "  Sidi, 
try  the  palace."  "  Try  the  apartments  of  his  women, 
Sidi."  "  Abd  er-Bahman's  gone,  but  Ben  Aboo's 
hiding."  "  Death  to  the  tyrant!  "  "  Down  with  the 
Basha!  "  "  Ben  Aboo!  Ben  Aboo!  "  Last  of  all  a 
terrific  voice  demanding  silence.  "  Silence,  you 
shrieking  hell-babes,  silence!  " 

Ben  Aboo  was  in  safety;  but  to  lie  in  that  dark 
hole  underground  and  to  hear  the  tumult  above  him 
was  more  than  he  could  bear  without  going  mad. 
So  he  waited  until  the  din  abated,  and  the  soldiers, 
who  had  ransacked  the  Kasbah,  seemed  to  have  de- 
serted it;  and  then  he  crept  out,  made  for  the  won- 
en's  apartments,  and  rattled  at  their  door.  It  was 
folly,  it  was  lunacy;  but  he  could  not  resist  it,  for 
he  dared  not  be  alone.  He  could  hear  the  sounds 
of  voices  within — wailing  and  weeping  of  the  women 
— but  no  one  answered  his  knocking.  Again  and 
again  he  knocked  with  his  elbows  (still  gripping  his 
money-bags  with  both  hands),  until  the  flesh  was  raw 
through  selham  and  kaftan  by  beating  against  the 
wood.  Still  the  door  remained  unopened,  and  Ben 
Aboo,  thinking  better  of  his  quest  for  company,  fled 
to  the  patio,  hoping  to  escape  by  a  little  passage  that 
led  to  the  alley  behind  the  Kasbah. 

Here  he  encountered  Katrina  and  a  guard  of  five 
black  soldiers  who  were  helping  her  flight.  "  We  are 
safe,"  she  whispered — "  they've  gone  back  into  the 
Feddan — come; "  and  by  the  light  of  a  lamp  which 
she  carried  she  made  for  the  winding  corridor  that  led 
past  the  bath  and  the  sanctuary  to  the  Kasbah  gate. 
But  Ben  Aboo  only  cursed  her,  and  fumbled  at  the 
low  door  of  the  passage  that  went  out  from  the  alcove 
to  the  alley.     He  was  lumbering  through  with  his 


THE  FALL  OF  BEN  ABOO.       341 

armless  roll,  intending  to  clash  the  door  hack  in 
Katrina's  face,  when  there  was  a  fierce  shout  behind 
him,  and  for  some  minutes  Ben  Aboo  knew  no  more. 

The  shout  was  Ali's.  After  leaving  the  Mahdi 
on  the  heath  outside  the  Bab  Toot,  the  black  lad 
had  hunted  for  the  Basha.  When  the  Spanish  sol- 
diers abandoned  the  Kasbah  he  continued  his  search. 
Up  and  down  he  had  traversed  the  place  in  the 
darkness;  and  finding  Ben  Aboo  at  last,  on  the  spot 
where  he  had  first  seen  him,  he  rushed  in  upon  him 
and  brought  him  to  the  ground.  Seeing  Ben  Aboo 
down,  the  black  soldiers  fell  upon  Ali.  The  brave 
lad  died  with  a  shout  of  triumph.  "  Israel  ben 
Oliel,"  he  cried,  as  if  he  thought  that  name  enough 
to  save  his  soul  and  damn  the  soul  of  Ben  Aboo. 

But  Ben  Aboo  was  not  yet  done  with  his  own. 
The  blow  that  had  been  aimed  at  his  heart  had  no 
more  than  grazed  his  shoulder.  "  Get  up,"  whis- 
pered Katrina,  half  in  wrath;  and  while  she  stooped 
to  look  for  his  wounds,  her  face  and  hands  as  seen  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  lantern  were  bedaubed  with  his 
blood.  At  that  moment  the  guards  were  crying  that 
the  Kasbah  was  afire,  and  at  the  next  they  were  gone, 
leaving  Katrina  alone  with  the  unconscious  man. 
"  Get  up,"  she  cried  again,  and  tugging  at  Ben 
Aboo's  unconscious  body  she  struck  it  in  her  terror 
and  frenzy.  It  was  every  one  for  himself  in  that  bad 
hour.  Katrina  followed  the  guards,  and  was  never 
afterwards  heard  of. 

When  Ben  Aboo  came  to  himself  the  patio  was 
aglow  with  flames.  He  staggered  to  his  feet,  still 
grappling  to  his  breast  the  money-bags  hidden  under 
his  selham.  Then,  bleeding  from  his  shoulder  and 
with  blood  upon  his  beard,  he  made  afresh  for  the 


342  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

passage  leading  to  the  back  alley.  The  passage  was 
narrow  and  dark.  There  were  three  winding  steps 
at  the  end  of  it.  Ben  Aboo  was  dizzy  and  he  stum- 
bled. 

But  the  passage  was  silent,  it  was  safe,  and  out  in 
the  alley  a  sea  of  voices  burst  upon  him.  He  could 
hear  the  tramp  of  countless  footsteps,  the  cries  of 
multitudes  of  voices,  and  the  rattle  of  flintlocks. 
Lanterns,  torches,  flares  and  flashes  of  gunpowder 
came  and  went  at  both  ends  of  the  long  dark  tunnel. 
In  the  light  of  these  he  saw  a  struggling  current  of 
angry  faces.  The  living  sea  encircled  him.  He 
knew  what  had  happened.  At  the  first  certainty 
that  his  power  was  gone  and  that  there  was  nothing 
to  fear  from  his  vengeance,  his  own  people  had  gath- 
ered together  to  destroy  him. 

There  were  two  small  mean  houses  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  alley,  and  Ben  Aboo  tried  to  take 
refuge  in  the  first  of  them.  But  the  woman  who 
came  with  uncovered  face  to  the  door  was  the  widow 
of  the  mason  who  had  built  his  strong-room.  "  Mur- 
derer and  dog!  "  she  cried,  and  shut  the  door  against 
him.  He  tried  the  other  house.  It  was  the  house 
of  the  mason's  son.  "  Forgive  me,"  he  cried.  "  I 
am  corrected  by  Allah!  Yes,  yes,  it  is  true  I  did 
wrong  by  your  father,  but  forgive  me  and  save 
me."  Thus  he  pleaded,  throwing  himself  on  the 
ground  and  crawling  there.  "  Dog  and  coward,"  the 
young  man  shouted,  and  beat  him  back  into  the 
street. 

Ben  Aboo's  terror  was  now  apalling  to  look  upon. 
His  face  was  that  of  a  snared  beast.  With  bloodshot 
eves,  hollow  cheeks,  and  short  thick  breath,  he  ran 
from  dark  alley  to  dark  alley,  trying  every  house 


THE  FALL  OF  BEN  ABOO.       343 

where  he  thought  he  might  find  a  friend.  "  Alee, 
don't  you  know  me?"  "Mohammed,  it  is  I,  Ben 
Aboo."  "  See,  El  Arby,  here's  money,  money;  it's 
yours,  only  save  me,  save  me! "  With  such  frantic 
cries  he  raced  about  in  the  darkness  like  a  hunted 
wolf.  But  not  a  house  would  shelter  him.  Every- 
where he  met  relatives  of  men  who  had  died  through 
his  means,  and  he  was  driven  away  with  curses. 

Meantime,  a  rumour  that  Ben  Aboo  was  in  the 
streets  had  been  bruited  abroad  among  the  people, 
and  their  lust  of  blood  was  thereby  raised  to  madness. 
Screaming  and  spitting  and  raving,  and  firing  their 
flintlocks,  they  poured  from  street  into  street,  watch- 
ing for  their  victim  and  seeing  him  in  every  shadow. 
"He's  here!"  "  He's  there!  "  "  No,  he's  "yonder !  " 
"  He's  scaling  the  high  wall  like  a  cat!  " 

Ben  Aboo  heard  them.  Their  inarticulate  cries 
came  to  him  laden  with  one  message  only — death. 
He  could  see  their  faces,  their  snarling  teeth.  Some- 
times he  would  rave  and  blaspheme.  Then  he  would 
make  another  effort  for  his  life.  But  the  whirlpool 
was  closing  in  upon  him;  and  at  last,  like  one  who 
flings  himself  over  a  precipice  from  dizziness,  fear, 
and  irresistible  fascination,  he  flung  himself  into  the 
middle  of  the  infuriated  throng  as  they  scurried 
across  the  open  Feddan. 

From  that  moment  Ben  Aboo's  doom  was  sealed. 
The  people  received  him  with  a  long  furious  roar,  a 
cry  of  triumphant  execration,  as  if  their  own  astute- 
ness at  length  had  entrapped  him.  He  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  high  wall;  the  bellowing  crowd  was 
before  him  on  either  side.  By  the  torches  that 
many  carried  all  could  see  him.  Turban  and  shas- 
heeah  had  fallen  off,  and  the  bald  crown  of  his  head 


344  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

was  bare.  His  face  retained  no  human  expression 
but  fear.  He  was  seen  to  draw  his  arms  from  be- 
neath his  selham,  to  hold  both  his  money-bags  against 
his  breast,  to  plunge  a  hand  into  the  necks  of  them, 
and  fling  handfuls  of  coins  to  the  people.  "  Silver," 
he  cried;  "  silver,  silver  for  everybody." 

The  despairing  appeal  was  useless.  Nobody 
touched  the  money.  It  flashed  white  through  the 
air,  and  fell  unheard.  "  Death  to  the  Kaid!  "  was 
shouted  on  every  side.  Nevertheless,  though  half 
the  men  carried  guns,  no  man  fired.  By  unspoken 
consent  it  seemed  to  be  understood  that  the  death  of 
Ben  Aboo  was  not  to  be  the  act  of  one,  but  of  all. 
"  Stones,"  cried  somebody  out  of  the  crowd,  and  in 
another  moment  everybody  was  picking  stones,  and 
piling  them  at  his  feet  or  gathering  them  in  the  skirt 
of  his  jellab. 

Ben  Aboo  knew  his  awful  fate.  Gesticulating 
wildly,  having  flung  the  money-bags  from  him,  slob- 
bering and  screaming,  the  blighted  soul  was  seen  to 
raise  his  eyes  towards  the  black  sky,  his  thick  lubber 
lips  working  visibly,  as  if  in  wild  invocation  of 
Heaven.  At  the  next  instant  the  stones  began  to 
fall  on  him.  Slowly  they  fell  at  first,  and  he  reeled 
under  them  like  a  drunken  man;  the  back  of  his  neck 
arched  itself  like  the  neck  of  a  bull,  and  like  the  roar 
of  a  bull  was  the  groan  that  came  from  his  throat. 
Then  they  fell  faster,  and  he  swayed  to  and  fro,  and 
grunted,  with  his  beard  bobbing  at  his  breast,  and  his 
tongue  lolling  out.  Faster  and  faster,  and  thicker 
and  thicker  they  showered  upon  him,  darting  out  of 
the  darkness  like  swallows  of  the  night.  His  clothes 
were  rent,  his  blood  spirted  over  them,  he  staggered 
as  a  beast  staggers  in  the  slaughter,  and  at  length 


THE  FALL  OF  BEN  ABOO.       345 

his  thick  knees  doubled  up,  and  he  fell  in  a  round 
heap  like  a  ball. 

The  ferocity  of  the  crowd  was  not  yet  quelled. 
They  hailed  the  fall  of  Ben  Aboo  with  a  triumphant 
howl,  but  their  stones  continued  to  shower  upon  his 
body.  In  a  little  while  they  had  piled  a  cairn  above 
it.  Then  they  left  it  with  curses  of  content  and 
went  their  ways.  When  the  Spanish  soldiers,  who 
had  stood  aside  while  the  work  was  done,  came  up 
with  their  lanterns  to  look  at  this  monument  of 
Eastern  justice,  the  heap  of  stones  was  still  moving 
with  the  terrific  convulsions  of  death. 

Such  was  the  fall  of  El  Arby,  nicknamed  Ben 
Aboo. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


"  ALLAH-U-KABAE." 


Travelling  through  the  night — Naomi  laugh- 
ing and  singing  snatches  in  her  new-found  joy,  and 
the  Mahdi  looking  back  at  intervals  at  the  huge  out- 
line of  Tetuan  against  the  blackness  of  the  sky — they 
came  to  the  hut  by  Semsa  before  dawn  of  the  follow- 
ing day.  But  they  had  come  too  late.  Israel  ben 
Oliel  was  not,  after  all,  to  set  out  for  England.  He 
was  going  on  a  longer  journey.  His  lonely  hour  had 
come  to  him,  his  dark  hour  wherein  none  could  bear 
him  company.  On  a  mattress  by  the  wall  he  lay  out- 
stretched, unconscious,  and  near  to  his  end.  Two 
neighbours  from  the  village  were  with  him,  and  but 
for  these  he  must  have  been  alone — the  mighty  man 
in  his  downfall  deserted  by  all  save  the  great  Judge 
and  God. 

What  Naomi  did  when  the  first  shock  of  this  hard 
blow  fell  upon  her,  what  she  said,  and  how  she  bore 
herself,  it  would  be  a  painful  task  to  tell.  Oh,  the 
irony  of  fate!  Ah,  the  irony  of  God!  That  scene, 
and  what  followed  it,  looked  like  a  cruel  and  colossal 
jest — none  the  less  cruel  because  long  drawn  out  and 
as  old  as  the  days  of  Job. 

It  was  useless  to  go  out  in  search  of  a  doctor. 
The  country  was  as  innocent  of  leechcraft  as  the 
land  of  Canaan  in  the  days  of  Abraham.  All  they 
346 


"ALLAH-U-KABAR."  347 

could  do  was  to  submit,  absolutely  and  uncondition- 
ally.    They  were  in  God's  hands. 

The  light  was  coming  yellow  and  pink  through 
the  window  under  the  eaves  as  Israel  awoke  to  con- 
sciousness. He  opened  his  eyes  as  if  from  sleep,  and 
saw  Naomi  beside  him.  No  surprise  did  he  show  at 
this,  and  neither  did  he  at  first  betray  pleasure. 
Dimly  and  softly  he  looked  upon  her,  and  then  some- 
thing that  might  have  been  a  smile  but  for  lack  of 
strength  passed  like  sunshine  out  of  a  cloud  across 
his  wasted  face.  Naomi  pressed  a  pillow  under  his 
loins,  and  another  under  his  head,  thinking  to  ease 
the  one  and  raise  the  other.  But  the  iron  hand  of 
unconsciousness  fell  upon  him  again,  and  through 
many  hours  thereafter  Naomi  and  the  Mahdi  sat  to- 
gether in  silence  with  the  multitudinous  company  of 
invisible  things. 

During  that  interval  Fatimah  came  in  hot  haste, 
and  they  had  news  of  Tetuan.  The  Spaniards  had 
taken  the  town,  but  Abd  er-Rahman  and  most  of  his 
Ministers  had  escaped.  Ben  Aboo  had  tried  to  fol- 
low them,  but  he  had  been  killed  in  the  alcove  of  the 
patio.  Ali  had  killed  him.  He  had  rushed  in  upon 
him  through  a  line  of  his  guards.  One  of  the  guards 
had  killed  Ali.  The  brave  black  lad  had  fallen  with 
the  name  of  Israel  on  his  lips  and  with  a  dauntless 
shout  of  triumph.  The  Kasbah  was  afire;  it  had 
been  burning  since  the  banquet  of  the  night  before. 

Towards  sunset  peace  fell  upon  Israel  ben  Oliel, 
and  then  they  knew  that  the  end  was  very  near. 
Naomi  was  still  kneeling  at  his  right  hand,  and  the 
Mahdi  was  standing  at  his  left.  Israel  looked  at  the 
girl  with  a  world  of  tenderness,  though  the  hard  grip 
of  death  was  fast  stiffening  his  noble  face.     More 


348  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

than  once  he  glanced  at  the  Mahdi  also  as  if  he 
wished  to  say  something,  and  yet  could  not  do  so, 
because  the  power  of  life  was  low;  but  at  last  his 
voice  found  strength. 

"  I  have  left  it  too  late,"  he  said.  "  I  cannot  go 
to  England." 

Naomi  wept  more  than  ever  at  the  sound  of  these 
faltering  words,  and  it  was  not  without  effort  that 
the  Mahdi  answered  him. 

"  Think  no  more  of  that,"  he  said,  and  then  he 
stopped,  as  if  the  word  that  he  had  been  about  to 
speak  had  halted  on  his  tongue. 

"  It  is  hard  to  leave  her,"  said  Israel,  "  for  she  is 
alone;  and  who  will  protect  her  when  I  am  gone?" 

"  God  lives,"  said  the  Mahdi,  "  and  He  is  Father 
to  the  fatherless." 

"  But  what  Jew,"  said  Israel,  "  would  not  repeat 
for  her  her  father's  troubles,  and  what  Muslim  could 
save  her  from  her  own?  " 

"  Who  that  trusts  in  God,"  said  the  Mahdi,  "  need 
fear  the  Kaid?" 

"  But  what  man  can  save  her? "  cried  Israel 
again. 

And  then  the  Mahdi,  touched  by  Naomi's  tears 
as  well  as  her  father's  importunities,  answered  out  of 
a  hot  heart  and  said — 

"Peace,  peace!  If  there  is  no  one  else  to  take 
her,  from  this  day  forward  she  shall  go  with  me." 

Naomi  looked  up  at  him  then  with  such  a  light 
in  her  beautiful  eyes  as  he  has  often  since,  but  had 
never  before  seen  there,  and  Israel  ben  Oliel,  who 
had  been  holding  at  his  hand,  clutched  suddenly  at 
his  wrist. 

"  God  bless  you!  "  he  said,  as  well  as  he  could  for 


"ALLAH-U-KABAR."  349 

the  two  angels,  the  angel  of  love  and  the  angel  x>i 
death,  that  were  struggling  at  his  throat. 

Israel  looked  steadily  at  the  Mahdi  for  a  moment 
more  and  then  said  very  softly — 

"  Death  may  come  to  me  now;  I  am  ready.  Fare- 
well, my  father!  I  tried  to  do  your  bidding.  Do 
you  remember  your  watchword?  But  God  has  given 
me  rewards  for  repentance — see,"  and  he  turned  his 
eyes  towards  the  eyes  of  Naomi  with  a  wasting  yet 
sunny  smile. 

"  God  is  good,"  said  the  Mahdi;  "  lie  still,  lie 
still,"  and  he  laid  his  cool  hand  on  Israel's  fore- 
head. 

"  I  am  leaving  her  to  you,"  said  Israel;  "  and 
you  alone  can  protect  her  of  all  men  living  in  this 
land  accursed  of  God,  for  God's  right  arm  is  round 
you.  Yes,  God  is  good.  As  long  as  you  live  you 
will  cherish  her.  Never  was  she  so  dear  to  me  as 
now,  so  sweet,  so  lovable,  so  gentle.  But  you  will 
be  good  to  her.  God  is  very  good  to  me.  Guard  her 
as  the  apple  of  your  eye.  It  will  reward  you.  And 
let  her  think  of  me  sometimes — only  sometimes.  Ah! 
how  nearly  I  shipwrecked  all  this!  Eemember!  Ee- 
member! " 

"  Hush,  hush!  Do  not  increase  your  pains,"  said 
the  Mahdi.     "  Are  you  feeling  better  now  ?  " 

"  I  am  feeling  well,"  said  Israel,  "  and  happy — so 
happy." 

The  sun  had  set,  and  the  swift  twilight  was  pass- 
ing into  night,  when  another  messenger  arrived  from 
Tetuan.  It  was  Ali's  old  Taleb,  shedding  tears  for 
his  boy,  but  boasting  loudly  of  his  brave  death.  He 
had  heard  of  it  from  the  black  guards  themselves. 
After  Ali  fell  he  lived  a  moment,  though  only  in  un- 


350  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

consciousness.  The  boy  must  have  thought  himself 
back  at  Israel's  side.  "  I've  done  it,  father,"  he  said; 
"  he'll  never  hurt  you  again.  You  won't  drive  me 
away  from  you  any  more;  will  you,  father?  " 

They  could  see  that  Israel  had  heard  the  story. 
The  eyes  of  the  dying  are  dry,  but  well  they  knew 
that  the  heart  of  the  man  was  weeping. 

The  Taleb  came  with  the  idea  that  Israel  also 
was  gone,  for  a  rumour  to  that  effect  had  passed 
through  the  town.  "El  hamdu  lTllah!  "  he  cried, 
when  he  saw  that  Israel  was  still  alive.  But  then 
he  remembered  something,  and  whispered  in  the  Mah- 
di's  farther  ear  that  a  vast  concourse  of  Moors  and 
Jews,  including  his  own  vast  fellowship,  was  even 
then  coming  out  to  bury  Israel,  thinking  he  was 
dead. 

Israel  overheard  him  and  smiled.  It  seemed  as 
if  he  laughed  a  little  also.  "  It  will  soon  be  true," 
he  muttered  under  his  breath,  that  came  so  quick. 
And  hardly  had  he  spoken  when  a  low  deep  sound 
came  from  the  distance.  It  was  the  funeral  wail  of 
Israel  ben  Oliel. 

Nearer  and  nearer  it  came,  and  clearer  and  more 
clear.  First  a  mighty  bass  voice:  "  Allah  Akbar! ': 
Again  another  and  another  voice:  "Allah  Akbar!" 
and  then  the  long  roar  of  a  vast  multitude:  "Al — 
1 — lah-u-kabar!  r  Finally  a  slow  melancholy  wail, 
rising  and  falling  on  the  darkening  air:  "  There  is 
no  God  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is  the  Prophet  of 
God." 

It  was  a  solemn  sound — nay,  an  awful  one,  with 
the  man  himself  alive  to  hear  it. 

0  gratitude  that  is  only  a  death-song!  0  fame 
that  is  only  a  funeral! 


"ALLAH-TJ-KABAR."  351 

Israel  listened  and  smiled  again.  "  Ah,  God  is 
great!  "  he  whispered;  "  God  is  great!  " 

To  ease  his  labouring  chest  a  moment  the  Mahdi 
rose  and  stepped  to  the  door,  and  then  in  the  distance 
he  could  descry  the  procession  approaching — a  mov- 
ing black  shadow  against  the  sky.  Also  over  their 
billowy  heads  he  could  see  a  red  glow  far  away  in 
the  clouds.  It  was  the  last  smouldering  of  the  fire 
of  the  modern  Sodom. 

While  he  stood  there  he  was  startled  by  the  sound 
of  a  thick  voice  behind  him.  It  was  Israel's  voice. 
He  was  speaking  to  Naomi.  "  Yes,"  he  was  saying, 
"  it  is  hard  to  part.  We  were  going  to  be  very  happy. 
.  .  .  But  you  must  not  cry.  Listen!  When  I  am 
there — eh?  you  know,  there — I  will  want  to  say,  '  Fa- 
ther, you  did  well  to  hear  my  prayer.  My  little 
daughter — she  is  happy,  she  is  merry,  and  her  soul  is 
all  sunshine.'  So  you  must  not  weep.  Never,  never, 
never!  Remember!  ...  Ah!  that's  right,  that's 
right.  My  simple-hearted  darling!  My  sunny,  mer- 
ry, happy  girl!  " 

Naomi  was  trying  to  laugh  in  obedience  to  her 
father's  will.  She  was  combing  his  white  beard  with 
her  fingers — it  was  knotted  and  tangled — and  he  was 
labouring  hard  to  speak  again. 

"  Naomi,  do  you  remember?  "  he  said;  and  then 
he  tried  to  sing,  and  even  to  lisp  the  words  as  he  sang 
them,  just  as  a  child  might  have  done.  "  Do  you  re- 
member— 

Within  my  heart  a  voice 
Bids  earth  and  heaven  rejoice, 
Sings—'  Love  ' " 

But  his  strength  was  spent,  and  he  had  to  stop. 
"  Sing  it,"  he  whispered,  with  a  poor  broken  smile 


352  THE  SCAPEGOAT. 

at  his  own  failure.  And  then  the  brave  girl — all 
courage  and  strength,  a  quivering  bow  of  steel — took 
up  the  song  where  he  had  left  it,  though  her  voice 
trembled  and  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

As  Naomi  sang  Israel  made  some  poor  shift  to 
beat  the  time  to  her,  though  once  and  again  his 
feeble  hand  fell  back  into  his  breast.  When  she  had 
done  singing  Israel  looked  at  the  Mahdi  and  then  at 
her,  and  smiled,  as  if  he  and  she  and  the  song  were 
one  to  him. 

But  indeed  Naomi  had  hardly  finished  when  the 
wail  came  again,  now  nearer  than  before,  and  louder. 
Israel  heard  it.  "  Hark!  They  are  coming.  Keep 
close,"  he  muttered. 

He  fumbled  and  tugged  with  one  hand  at  the 
breast  of  his  kaftan.  The  Mahdi  thought  his  throat 
wanted  air,  but  Naomi,  with  the  instinct  of  help  that 
a  woman  has  in  scenes  like  these,  understood  him 
better.  In  the  disarray  of  his  senses  this  was  his  way 
of  trying  to  raise  himself  that  he  might  listen  the 
easier  to  the  song  outside.  The  girl  slid  her  arm 
under  his  neck,  and  then  his  shrunken  hand  was 
at  rest.  "Ah!  closer.  'God  is  great!'"  he  mur- 
mured again.  "  '  God — is — great! '  "  With  that 
word  on  his  lips  he  smiled  and  sighed,  and  sank  back. 
It  was  now  quite  dark. 

When  the  Mahdi  returned  to  his  place  at  Israel's 
feet  the  dying  man  seemed  to  have  been  feeling  for 
his  hand.  Taking  it  now,  he  brought  it  to  his  breast, 
where  Naomi's  hand  lay  under  his  own  trembling  one. 
With  that  last  effort,  and  a  look  into  the  girl's  face 
that  must  have  pursued  him  home,  his  grand  eyes 
closed  for  ever. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  after  the  departing 


"ALLAH-U-KABAR."  353 

spirit  the  deep  swell  of  the  funeral  wail  came  rolling 
heavily  on  the  night  air:  "  Allah  Akhar!  Al-lah-u- 
kabar!  " 

In  a  few  minutes  more  the  procession  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Tetuan  who  had  come  out  to  bury  Israel  ben 
Oliel  had  arrived  at  the  house. 

"He  has  gone,"  said  the  Mahdi,  pointing  down; 
and  then  lifting  his  eyes  towards  heaven,  he  added, 
"  To  the  King!  " 


(i) 


THE    END. 


